


Food for the Soul

by LilyK



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 23:34:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14841339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyK/pseuds/LilyK
Summary: Jim is hired by Blair's friends at Major Crime to cook for him while he is home on extended leave due to medical complications following his drowning at the hands of Alex Barnes.





	Food for the Soul

  
Jim Ellison successfully hid his shock at the appearance of the man standing before him in the open doorway. He'd been told his new client was ill, but he hadn't known just how sick the man actually was. He felt a sudden stab of sympathy. While he'd been told the guy, a police consultant and profiler, was barely thirty, this man looked older than Jim's own forty-two years. His mind quickly flashed through the other details that had been provided. They were sketchy, at best. A near drowning, an extended hospital stay, and a persistent case of pneumonia had kept his prospective client homebound for several months now. With a sympathetic smile, Jim held out his hand. 

"Mr. Sandburg? I'm Jim Ellison. Simon Banks sent me." 

Reaching out, the man nodded a greeting. In spite of his illness, he gave Jim a pleasant look and a quick smile. "Oh, hey. Hi. I'm Blair –" Before they could shake, Blair started to cough harshly. He covered his mouth with his hand while he leaned on the doorframe for support. 

Jim took a step closer, reaching out. He felt a sudden urge to help, to protect. "Are you okay?" he asked, concerned at the unpleasant sounds emanating from the man's lungs. 

Waving a hand, Blair nodded while he cleared his throat a couple of times before he could speak. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry." 

"No problem." 

"Come on in." Blair stepped back, carefully holding onto the doorframe. He transferred his weight to the cane clutched in his other hand. "Have a seat." 

Afraid that he would be overstepping his bounds, Jim tamped down his first instinct to aid the man across the room. Still, while he followed his host into the large open living space that dominated the loft apartment, he kept a careful watch on him. A quick glance confirmed that he liked the dwelling immediately. The main living space, while light and airy, was warm and open, with wide windows across the front, a small free-standing fireplace tucked into a corner, and more books than Jim could count crammed into cases along the solid brick wall. 

"Nice place you have here." Another fast glance as he passed the kitchen area confirmed that the place was adequately outfitted for his needs. 

"Thanks." Blair smiled, sinking into the sofa cushions with a small sigh. 

Seeing that his new acquaintance still was having trouble breathing, Jim asked, "Can I get you something?" After placing his large canvas bag on the floor beside his feet, he leaned forward from his place on the second sofa that was comfortably situated on the colorful rug. "Water?" 

Blair nodded. "Please. If you don't mind. In the fridge." 

"Sure." Jim rose and after opening the refrigerator door, he pulled out a fresh bottle of water. He chanced a glance at the contents before he closed the door. He'd been told that some of Sandburg's co-workers were dropping by every few days with groceries, and the kind of food in the fridge clearly indicated a bachelor's touch. Most of the items were easily prepared, but full of preservatives and lacking many nutrients. The juice was the fake kind, made with no real fruit and lots of sugar. There were no fresh vegetables or fruits, and there was plain white bread, an open package of bologna, along with slices of processed cheese. There was a pan with a lid that covered the hidden contents. A sniff indicated that it held some chicken bullion; loaded with salt and artificial flavors, Jim knew. 

Jim carried the water over to Blair, who looked pale and very tired. "Here you go. Nice and cool." 

Blair nodded his thanks. "Sit." He unscrewed the top and took a few tentative sips. 

Jim sat and waited patiently, giving Blair a chance to catch his breath before he asked the pertinent questions. "Do you mind if I check out the larder?" Jim asked, waving toward the cupboards over the counter. At Blair's nod, he rose and opened the doors, looking around. Canned chili and soups, boxes of macaroni and cheese, and rice mixes. Easy to prepare, but definitely not the type of good healthy food to help an ill body to heal. Most of it was full of artificial flavors and preservatives, not to mention too much salt. While Jim acknowledged that Sandburg's friends were kind enough to shop, they definitely hadn't stocked the man's cupboards with quality ingredients. He closed the door and returned to his spot in the living room. 

"So you know why I'm here, obviously." 

Blair rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Seems my colleagues don't think I'm taking care of myself since..." He glanced sadly toward the balcony windows before he took another sip of water. Turning back to Jim, he asked, "What do you need me to do?" 

Jim gave Blair a sympathetic smile. "You don't need to do anything other than to tell me what you like, what you don't like, any allergies, that sort of thing." 

After slipping the cane between the edges of two sofa cushions, Blair leaned back. "I really don't need your services," he protested weakly. "I can take care of myself. Besides –" 

"Chief, I'm all bought and paid for. You might as well use me. I'm yours for the duration." 

At Blair's raised eyebrow, Jim shrugged and grinned. Blair smiled. "How long is the – duration? And just how much did they pay you anyway?" he asked curiously. 

"As for how much, I'm not at liberty to say. It was explained to me that this is a gift from your coworkers and as such, the amount is to remain private. At least from my end. Your buddies paid for..." Jim glanced around once again and without realizing why, he made a snap decision. His usual fee, a thousand a week, suddenly turned into a thousand for two weeks – make that four weeks for this client. Without bothering to wonder at his quick decision, he said, "... thirty days, starting tomorrow. I'm yours for a whole month. Today's just the "get to know you" interview. To see if we can work together." With a warm smile, he added, "Your wish is my command." 

Blair laughed slightly, but even that action started another bout of coughing. Jim moved quickly. He crossed the few feet separating the two men and knelt on the floor. With his hands on Blair's elbows, he tried to comfort the man while he waited yet again until the coughing subsided. 

"I'm going to make you tea. I have something with me that might help with that cough. If nothing else, it will soothe your throat." 

Blair nodded, eyes watering. "Sorry," he whispered. 

Jim rose. "Don't worry about it. It's part of my duties." 

Again, Blair sighed and raised an eyebrow, still weakly protesting. "I can't afford home nursing care – my insurance won't approve it – and I really don't need a personal assistant." 

Jim eyed the gaunt man. His hair was long and dark, pulled back into a bunch at the base of his neck. The strands looked lifeless, not a good sign. Blair's skin was sallow and clearly showed Jim that the man was lacking in nutrition. The bags under his eyes indicated many sleepless nights, which didn't help Sandburg's physical or mental health. 

With a sympathetic smile, Jim shrugged. "Hey, your pals paid my fee. I never said I was a nurse, nor am I a personal assistant, but I'm a hell of a chef. You might as well take advantage because I don't do refunds. We wouldn't want their gift wasted now, would we?" Not bothering to wait for Blair's answer, Jim emptied the teakettle on the stove, rinsed it with hot water, and refilled it with fresh cold water while he continued to speak. "First thing, don't reuse the previously boiled water. Always use fresh." He turned on the burner and looked around for a clean towel to wipe his hands. Not seeing anything at hand, he dropped them to his side. 

"Why's that?" 

Even in his ill state, Jim could see the curiosity radiating from his new friend. "Reboiling concentrates the chemical impurities, not to mention that it tastes metallic and a bit nasty. For the most flavor from your tea leaves, fresh is best. And use cold water. It doesn't grab impurities or sediment from your hot water tank. Follow that same rule when making coffee, and it will improve the taste." Jim grinned while he imparted his knowledge. "I like things as fresh as possible. And it's better for you. Better physically and mentally. Everything you eat affects your body in some way. Might as well be in a good way. Right?" 

"Yeah. Thanks, man. Good tips. You sound like a scientist." 

"That's why I'm here. To help you," Jim said, crossing to snag his satchel from the floor. "I have some herbal tea in here that I think you'll like." 

"I'd prefer coffee," Blair said with a slight whine, making Jim smile. 

"Tea. It's better for you right now. We'll grind up some good coffee in a few days." Jim fished out several small containers, some needed equipment, and a clean tea towel. He then turned to search for a cup. Finding a clean one in the cupboard, he nevertheless rinsed it under hot tap water and opened one of the two containers he'd taken from his bag. While he worked he said, "And I am a scientist. A good chef is a scientist in the preparation and presentation, not to mention the flavor of food." Seeing that Blair was still listening and encouraged by his interested look, Jim added, "The science of food is very compelling. I conduct experiments. I do tests. I have to know the properties regarding heat and leavening agents, not to mention the outcome, good or bad, of each addition or ingredient. Lots of scientific facts go into preparing even simple meals." Carefully spooning the loose leaves into his own mesh tea infuser, he placed it into the cup. Finding a spoon in the drawer, he rinsed it as well before setting it in the cup. "Besides, you'll like this tea. It's part of my own line of gourmet products. And it's good for you, too."

"I thought you were here to cook, not to be my mother," Blair groused good-naturedly. 

Jim guffawed. "I'm too young to be your mother. Maybe your older sister, though." 

When Blair started to laugh, another coughing episode stopped him mid-chuckle. Jim immediately crossed to his side. When the coughing became more violent, Jim looked around helplessly. Blair's eyes watered and his chest heaved as he struggled to take in enough oxygen. He started to shake and turned even whiter, if possible. 

"Sandburg? This is way out of hand. I'm calling 911" 

Jim grabbed his cell and hit the emergency number. When Blair yanked on his coat, Jim's eyes searched his companion's distressed face. He was frantically gesturing toward the back of the loft. Jim disconnected and raced into the room tucked under the stairs where he saw the oxygen canister sitting just inside the door. He quickly grabbed the metal container and hurried back to his companion's side. Adjusting the nozzle to start the flow, he immediately clamped the mask over Blair's mouth. 

"Relax. Try to breathe in nice and easy." With his hand behind Blair's head, he held the mask gently over his mouth. "Breathe, Sandburg. In. Out." Blair nodded minutely, his fingers clutching Jim's sleeve. "Good job. Good going. In and out. Count your breaths, slow your breathing down. You can do it." 

After several minutes, Jim listened intently to Blair's body. His heart had started to stop its frantic racing and his lungs, though still sounding thick and wet to Jim's sensitive ears, worked with less effort. Unthinkingly, Jim's hand moved from behind Blair's head to brush across his forehead, wiping away the small amount of sweat that his exertions created. Noting the minimal amount of perspiration and after carefully observing his companion, Jim could also sense Blair's need for fluids. With his keen sight, Jim once again noted that Blair's skin lacked vital nutrients and that generally, the man's health was poor. His lack of proper nutrition was not helping to improve his distressed condition. Jim didn't know why, but he felt the intense need to do everything he could to correct these problems, to help this man. 

Working on instinct, Jim didn't question the fact that he felt he had to help Blair. After many years of fighting his instincts, he'd learned to follow his gut, and now he welcomed their gentle prod. He used his sensitive senses in his work, but always with care. They had a tendency to do what they pleased, especially when Jim was tired or stressed. Right now, though, he was alert and intensely aware of Blair's body, and he could almost hear its silent scream for help. 

When Blair seemed to regain some strength and was able to hold the mask himself, Jim released his hold and with a concerned voice said, "Listen. You're sick and you need some help. I think a lot of your health issues can be alleviated with a concerted effort to rest, to eat properly and drink plenty of fluids. I'd like to lay out a plan and I'd like your agreement that you'll work with me on this. What do you say? What do you have to lose?" 

Moving the oxygen mask away from his face and setting it on his lap, Blair rubbed his reddened eyes with his free hand while his other hand still clutched onto the material of Jim's coat. Through that contact, Jim could feel the tremors coursing through Blair's body and he waited patiently until Blair released his hold on his sleeve. Blair smoothed the cloth with shaking fingers, whispering, "I'd – like that. Thank you." 

Relieved, Jim let out a quick breath. "Good. And I'd like that, also." The whistling of the kettle finally registered to Jim's sensitive ears. Rising, he patted Blair's shoulder. "Now how about some of that tea?" 

"Don't you have other customers? Some place else to be? You can't be wasting time taking care of me if you have work to do." 

"My schedule's under control, Sandburg. Don't worry about it. You're my main concern this week. Besides, I don't think being here is a waste of time." 

Blair gave Jim a pleased look before he asked, "Ah, this week?" 

Jim didn't even blink when he easily lied. "Did I say week? I meant month. I work for one client at a time. So for the next thirty days –" 

"You're all mine?" Blair finished, giving Jim an innocent look. 

Jim felt a small tingle at the tone of Blair's words. It felt... strange... but good. Jim smiled. "I'm all yours," he agreed. "So how about lunch?" 

"I'm not very hungry." 

Jim stirred in a spoonful of honey from the second container that he had taken from his bag. "I've added Northwestern Fireweed honey. It's very good, grown right here on the slopes of the Cascade Mountains. Drink this, slowly. Savor the taste. Allow your tongue to appreciate the subtleties while your stomach appreciates the warmth." 

Blair raised an amused eyebrow, making Jim grin sheepishly. "What? You have to learn to relish food and drink. It's one of life's pleasures. Something to be enjoyed, savored..." Jim's words trailed off when he glanced into Blair's eyes. The man was listening to him with such intensity, that Jim felt like he was the center of his world. He was paying attention to Jim's every word, making Jim feel – important. Shrugging off what was probably his own sudden wish that Blair was truly interested in him as a possible friend, Jim sat down and pretended to be busy rummaging through his bag for a pen and paper. He gave himself a stern lecture while Blair tasted the tea. _The guy's sick! He looks like he hasn't eaten or slept in days and this – attraction is ridiculous! Get a grip,_ he ordered himself. 

Sipping the tea, Blair sighed with pleasure. "This is wonderful. Thank you." At Jim's pleased nod, he smiled, but his voice was colored with sadness when he said, "You should know that I've accepted the fact that I probably won't ever be – well again. I've taken a wide spectrum of antibiotics and the doctors are now – concerned that I'm not responding. They've all told me that by now most people –" Blair stopped and closed his eyes, sighing tiredly. 

"Sandburg?" Jim waited patiently until Blair opened his eyes, and when their eyes met, he smiled, but his voice was adamant when he said, "You will get better. I will help." 

"But, Jim –” 

"No buts!" Jim said firmly. "Got it?" 

"Geez, man. Okay. Are you always this pushy?" 

Jim glanced into dark blue eyes that showed a tiny bit of the spark of life that Jim suspected usually flared hot and bright in this man. He feigned shock. Pressing a hand over his own heart, he groused, "Me? Pushy? I'm as sweet as sugar, and gentle as a kitten." 

Blair shook his head and rolled his eyes. "You're such a liar, but you do make good tea." 

Jim shrugged and grinned. "So, tell me your favorite foods." 

Blair sipped the last of the warm tea while his brow furrowed. "I'm not fussy, but I don't like a lot of unhealthy stuff. I enjoy a good steak as much as the next guy, but I try to limit my red meat intake. I do admit a weakness for really good chocolate." 

"It's a good idea to limit fats anyway. But hey, everything in moderation, as they say." Jim waved the hand with the pen, encouraging Blair to continue. 

"I love veggies. Salads. Homemade soups. Tongue –” 

"Tongue? I admit I've never prepared tongue, although I make a very delicious liver and onion dish. If you're into internal organs, that is," he added with a quirky grin, making Blair giggle. He held his breath, relieved that the laughter didn't set off another coughing spell. 

"And I'd be willing to try anything you fix," Blair said around a wide yawn. "Oh, man. Sorry. I've been having trouble sleeping. Oh, no peas."

"What?"

"Peas, man. I hate peas. I'll eat just about anything, but please skip the peas. And I've never had an allergic reaction to any food." 

"No problem, Chief. So noted: no peas. Say, why don't you go and take a nap and I'll hit the market. While you sleep, I'll fix lunch and put something in the fridge for you to heat up for dinner." 

Blair nodded, yawning into his hand. "You do two meals a day?" 

"Actually, I do three." Jim inwardly cringed. There went his profit for the month. He usually only did two unless he charged more, but for this man, he'd do ten meals a day if it got him on the road to recovery. What the hell. He'd still be able to pay the bills. With a stern look, he pointed a finger at Blair. "But you have to promise me that you'll be gentle with the microwaving. Some of my dishes require tender care. No nuking the hell out of them." 

Blair chuckled, his eyes wide, and he held up his hands to fend off Jim's teasing attack. "I promise. I'll be kind to your creations."

Nodding with approval, Jim rose and started to return the items to his bag from the tea making. From the corner of his eye, he watched while Blair scooted down onto the sofa, trying to make himself comfortable on the stack of pillows that rested against the couch's arm. When he lay back, he started coughing. 

"Shit," Blair muttered after the spell passed. "It happens every time." 

"What did your doctor tell you about sleeping?" Jim asked. 

"He said it would be better if I slept elevated, but no matter how many pillows I prop behind me, I can't seem to get comfortable." 

Jim shook his head. "You're not doing it properly, that's why." 

Blair raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Oh, and exactly what's properly, doctor?" he asked in an amused voice. 

"Where's your bed?" 

"What?" Blair asked. "Why?" 

Blue eyes, tinged with a mix of curiosity and anxiety, looked up. "You need to elevate the bed, Sandburg. I'm not going to jump your bones." 

Blair laughed nervously. "Sorry. For a second there, I forgot we really don't know each other..." 

Jim smiled. "No problem," he said reassuringly. "It was kind of a personal question. I mean, I saw the futon in that back room, but I figured you had a – nicer bed elsewhere." Again, Blair gave Jim a humorous look, making him blush. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that your bed isn't nice. I mean, it's none of my business... Oh, crap." 

Blair laughed lightly. "The main bedroom is upstairs but lately, I've been camping out in the spare room." He waved over the back of the sofa toward the room where Jim had found the oxygen bottle. "Those stairs are too much for me, but I do miss my king-sized bed." 

"Okay. Hang on. Give me a minute." Jim disappeared into the spare room and emerged several minutes later. "Ready. Nap time." He slipped a hand under Blair's elbow and helped him to his feet. 

"You are worse than my mother," Blair groused agreeably. 

"It's my feminine side showing itself," Jim quipped, making Blair laugh again. 

"Oh, man. You're too funny." He coughed several times on the way to the bedroom. "Sorry to be so much trouble." 

"Stop apologizing," Jim ordered, "and sleep." 

"Great idea!" Blair said when he saw what Jim had done. "I would have never thought of that." 

Helping Blair into bed, Jim said, "The idea to elevate yourself while sleeping is to incline your whole body. When you prop yourself up on pillows or blankets, you put too much pressure on your lungs, heart and stomach, and you're not comfortable. By putting a couple of books under the bed frame and tilting the bed itself, this gives you the perfect incline and keeps your upper body pressure off your internal organs." Jim covered Blair up to his chin. 

"Who knew that a personal chef would be so damned smart?" Blair muttered, his eyes slipping shut. 

"Sleep, Sandburg." 

"Thanks..." 

"You're welcome." Jim watched as the sick man slid into sleep. He focused on Blair's damaged lungs and while he heard the irritation in them, he also could tell that, for now, Blair was breathing as easily as possible in his current condition with only a small amount of wheezing. Still, the sound made Jim cringe and he felt the urge to run fingers across Blair's brow to erase the furrows etched there. He shook his head at his musings. "Geez, Ellison, what is wrong with you!" he groused softly. 

Returning to the living room, Jim carried the cane and the oxygen canister back into the bedroom, where he placed both within easy reach in case Blair had need of them while he was gone. After a quick look around, he was satisfied that, for now, he'd done all he could. In the kitchen, he grabbed his canvas bag and started to leave. Once in the hallway, Jim stopped, unwilling to leave the defenseless man behind an unlocked door. And if he locked the door, he wouldn't be able to re-enter unless he woke Blair. He chewed on his lower lip for a moment before he made a decidedly un-Ellison-like impulsive decision. 

Jim poked his head back inside. Blair was still asleep and there was no way he'd wake him to ask the man for a key to the front door. Snaking an arm through the crack, he rummaged through the small basket on the little table beside the door until he found a ring of keys. He tested several in the dead bolt and when he found the one that worked, he closed the door and locked it behind him. Feeling very good about this assignment, he whistled while he waited for the elevator. He was humming when he drove to the store and with special care, made his purchases. 

\----------------------------------------

In the noon drizzle, Jim returned with overflowing bags to the loft. He shook his head at his purchases while he quietly set the bags on the counter. Usually, he didn't shop at the expensive, organic grocery store over on Mannion Avenue. Most of his clients were happy with Safeway as long as the food was well prepared. But for Blair... 

"Ellison," Jim said softly to the bags of groceries that sat before him, "don't even try to analyze it. Whatever the hell "it" is!" When the groceries didn't answer, Jim laughed at his own silliness. 

With a shrug, Jim dismissed his thoughts and tuned into Blair. Even though his sensitive ears heard Blair's thick breathing, he knew from the sound of his heart rate that he was at least resting as well as he could. Pleased that Blair was sleeping, and before he started working, he put on his favorite flowered apron and tossed a clean tea towel over his shoulder. Then he unloaded the bags and began to put away any of the groceries that he wouldn't be using for today's meal preparation. Opening the fridge, he tossed everything that looked or smelled old before washing down the shelves with hot soapy water. After rinsing the now-clean fridge, he felt comfortable putting away the perishable food. 

Next he tackled the stove, sink and counter tops. To Jim, Blair didn't seem like he kept an unclean home, but like a lot of people, he was a bit untidy. While he probably did all right in the housecleaning department when he was well, since he'd been sick, Jim could tell that cleaning had fallen by the wayside. Jim worked quickly and quietly, and soon the kitchen sparkled. He stood in the center of the small space and eyed his work. It passed Ellison inspection. With a grunt at his own fussy demands, he shrugged and chuckled at himself. At least it was clean, he mused. The fewer bacteria invading Blair's body, the better. 

Satisfied with his efforts, he started food preparation. He had carefully considered Blair's current condition, his nutritional requirements and his body's ability to digest the food for the most amount of value to his recovering body. For lunch, he would prepare a hot soup full of vegetables and high in minerals and vitamins. 

Stock pot on the stove, Jim opened several containers of organic chicken broth. He would have stewed a chicken if he had more time, but for today, this would do. He turned on the burner and allowed the broth to slowly heat while he chopped fresh spinach, carrots, broccoli, and zucchini. First adding a few handfuls of brown rice, Jim carefully timed the addition of each ingredient, the longer cooking ones first and the faster ones last. He tasted the soup after each addition had been allowed to simmer for a few minutes and seasoned it lightly, until the soup was cooked to his satisfaction. Sampling the finished product, he smiled, pleased with the results. 

The timer on the stove dinged when the soup was finished. Opening the door, with a dishtowel as a potholder, he checked the casserole he had placed in the oven while the soup had cooked. The whole-wheat pasta shells were tender. The light cheddar cheese sauce bubbled along the edges and the mushrooms and red onions added a hearty taste. Jim removed the casserole and set it on a trivet to cool. 

Tossing the dishtowel over his shoulder, he turned his senses to the bedroom. A slight stirring let Jim know that his charge was waking. With a warm smile, and a quick thought at why he felt so – at home here, he wandered over to lean on the doorframe. He allowed himself a few moments to watch Blair sleep, and he wished... Interrupting his own thoughts before they ran away from him, Jim knocked very softly. 

"Hey, Chief. Hungry?" 

Blair blinked lazily for a moment before his eyes widened. "Jim? Oh, God. I'd almost forgotten about you," he said with a bit of surprise, holding his hand over his heart. "For a second..." 

Jim heard the suddenly rapid heartbeat. "Oh, darn. Sorry," he said contritely, crossing to Blair's side. "I'm sorry I startled you. Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, man. I'm fine. Just some – residual effects." 

"From what?" 

Blair carefully sat up and slid his legs toward the side of the bed. "Just from the job. Nothing for you to worry about." 

Jim studied Blair intently for a moment before he slowly nodded. "Okay then." 

"What smells so great?" 

"Food. It's called food, in case you've forgotten," Jim groused, eyeing the underweight frame. "Something you need badly." 

Blair cocked his head and glared up at Jim. "If it didn't smell so darned good, I'd toss you right out of here for interfering in things you know nothing about." 

Jim heard the seriousness of Blair's words, but he picked up on the fear behind them. Wondering exactly what had brought Blair to this point in his life, Jim almost asked. Tamping down the need to know everything he could about Sandburg, he stopped the words from tumbling out. Instead, using his best commanding voice, but unable to hide a smile, he snapped, "Get your ass up and eat." He tempered his words with another smile, but he meant what he said. He was going to take care of Sandburg whether Blair liked it or not. Crossing his arms, he stood and waited. 

Blair looked into Jim's eyes and blinked quickly. "I **am** hungry..." 

"Good. Food's hot. Let me help you." Jim didn't wait for Blair's response, but clamped a hand under his elbow. "Sit." He guided the ailing man to the table and pulled out a chair. "I have fresh orange juice or mango-pineapple. Which would you prefer?" 

Blair sank into the chair with a grateful sigh. "Thanks. I'd prefer a beer." 

Jim laughed. "Yeah, right." 

At Jim's unwavering look, Blair rolled his eyes. "I'll have the mango. Nice apron, by the way. The colors suit you." 

Jim snickered at Blair's good-natured teasing. "I'll have you know that this was a special gift from a special friend. And the mango is very good." Turning, Jim filled a bowl with hot soup and carried it over to the table where he had earlier set silverware and a napkin. After filling a glass with the cool juice, he added that to Blair's place. "Enjoy." 

"Aren't you eating?" 

"I'm here to feed you. Not eat." 

"But I feel – funny with you standing there, watching me. Either you eat with me or I'm not eating." 

"Oh, for God's sake. Are you always this – stubborn?" 

"Yes. Now please, Jim. Join me?" 

Blair's eyes found Jim's. Jim saw the quick flashes of emotion in those expressive eyes. He saw sadness and longing and loneliness. He felt Blair's unhappiness. He sensed Blair's irritation at his inability to conquer his illness and burning desire to be well again. Jim nodded. "Sure. I'd love to." He prepared his own bowl of soup and sat down with his friend. "So...?" 

Blair smiled and tasted the soup. He took another spoonful, then another. Finally, he licked his lips. "This is – wonderful!" After a quick glance at Jim, he returned his attention to his bowl. 

Jim smiled, picked up his own spoon and slowly ate, savoring the mingling of flavors that danced along his tongue. He could pick out each individual flavor, and he liked the warmth coating his mouth. He was very pleased when Blair finished his soup and drank the juice without further protests. 

Wiping his mouth on a napkin, Blair said, "That was about the best meal I've had in ages. Thank you." He yawned into his hand. "Sorry. I can't believe I'm still sleepy!" 

"It's your body, which happens to be pretty darned smart," Jim said, rising to clear the table. "It's telling you that it enjoyed the food and now it's time to rest." 

Blair rolled his eyes. "You **are** worse than my mother. No question about that now." 

Jim started to run dishwater. "As long as you enjoyed it, that's all that counts." 

"I enjoyed it." 

"Good." Jim washed and rinsed the dishes while he said, "So I've made a macaroni and cheese casserole for your dinner. And for breakfast, I put some whole grain bagels in the fridge. There's a container of all-natural peanut butter I just had ground at the store and some fresh strawberry preserves. Also two kinds of sliced natural cheese, fresh fruit, and yogurt. That way you can fix yourself something easy for breakfast. And I bought real butter." Blair swiveled in his seat and hooked an arm on the back of his chair. He raised an eyebrow at Jim, who shrugged at Blair's unasked question about high fats. "Might as well eat the real stuff and skip the artificial colors and preservatives. It's better for you. Just don't spread it on two inches thick." When Blair chuckled, Jim grinned in return. "As soon as I wash the lunch plates, I'll make you a plate for dinner and stow the rest in individual containers. We'll freeze them for you to heat up after my stint is up. That way you'll have meals that you can just defrost and heat up." 

"I really should help you wash up." 

"No way. It's part of my job." 

"I find it hard to believe that your job is to clean my kitchen." 

Jim shrugged, drying his hands on a towel. "I can't work until I've given my area a good cleaning. Nothing personal. I do it everywhere I work." 

"Do you have many clients?" 

"I have enough to keep me busy, and I have some errands I need to run, so another half an hour and I'm done here for today." 

"Oh." 

Upon hearing the tiny word whispered almost sadly, Jim glanced at his companion. "I'll be back tomorrow. Ten good for you?" 

Blair's face brightened, making Jim's heart race a bit. "Yeah, Jim. Ten is good for me. Thanks." 

Jim pulled several new packages of disposable storage containers from a bag on the counter. After spooning a good amount onto a plate and covering it with plastic wrap, he placed it into the small refrigerator. "Now remember," he said, waggling a finger in Blair's direction, "microwave gently. No more than half power for five minutes, or you'll turn it into a gloppy mess." 

"Yes, sir," Blair said, jauntily saluting, which made Jim chuckle. "Is gloppy a gourmet cooking term?" 

Jim gave Blair an exasperated glance while he tried to hide his smile. "Yes, Sandburg. I went to three years of school to learn these terms. Oh, before I forget to tell you, I used your key to lock up behind me today. I hope you don't mind." 

"No, man. Thanks. I didn't even think about it, and I appreciate you didn't leave the door wide open. There's an extra in the basket beside the door. Why don't you take one? Then you can let yourself in, just in case..." 

"In case of what?" 

"I'm not able to get to the door," he said, his voice a mix of sadness and anger. 

Jim straightened up from his duties and his gaze locked onto Blair's. "I'm here to help," he offered quietly. 

Blair's head ducked down for a moment before he raised his face. "Thanks. I – Thanks." 

"No problem, Chief." Jim appreciated the gratitude he saw in Blair's eyes. He gave Blair a warm smile. "I enjoy cooking." He waited, hoping that Blair might explain something about what had happened to him, but when Blair didn't say anything else, he returned to his chores. There was plenty of time, he felt. He was going to be spending a part of each day for the next month with Blair, something he was looking forward to, so he didn't push for explanations. He was a patient man, he could wait. But he was interested, and he wanted to get to know his new friend better. Much better, if he had his way. With Blair silently watching, he split up the casserole's contents into five small containers. He then did the same with the soup. Taking a marker, he wrote the contents, date and heating instructions on each lid before opening the fridge. "Not much of a freezer here, is it?" 

"Two trays of ice cubes and it's full, man," Blair added. 

"Don't worry about it. There room enough in the fridge so I'll stow these on an empty shelf," Jim looked at Blair over his shoulder, "since there's almost no food to speak of. We'll worry about freezing these tomorrow." 

Blair yawned and his eyes drooped. "Sounds like a plan." 

"You're sleepy. That's good. You need to rest." 

"That nap today was about the best sleep I've had in weeks. You'd think I'd be wide awake after sleeping for two hours." 

"Two hours isn't enough for a sick body, Sandburg. Now up and at 'em." 

"I need a shower." 

Jim looked at the sleepy man and shook his head. "Not tonight. You'll slip and fall for sure in your condition. Sleep, and tomorrow I'll help you." 

"You will?" Blair asked groggily, his feet dragging as Jim guided him into the bedroom once again. 

"Yes, I will." 

"Cool. And here I thought you were only a chef." 

"I'd be happy to be more." Jim grimaced inwardly at his unbidden words while he tucked Blair back into his bed and covered him to his chin. Thankfully Blair seemed to be too sleepy to have heard the untoward remark. Jim quickly covered his words with chatter. "Remember to sleep on your back. It helps keep those lungs clear. More rest, good food, and you'll be up and about in no time." 

"Happy to be more?" Blair said, slurring his words. "More what...?" He slid into sleep. 

Jim sighed. "God only knows. And just what the hell am I doing anyway?" With a shake of his head and an exasperated groan at his own words and actions, Jim made sure the kitchen was sparkling clean and a note written reminding Blair about the reheating instructions before he left for the day. 

\------------------------------------

Jim knocked on Blair's front door while he used his key to unlock the dead bolt. "It's Ellison," he called out, giving Blair fair warning. 

"Come in!" 

When Jim opened the door, his eyes immediately zeroed in on Blair, who lay on the sofa. With a stern glance, he asked firmly, "Did you eat breakfast?" 

Blair looked up, glasses slipping down his nose and with a book in hand. "Hello to you too, Jim." 

Jim glared. "Well, did you?" 

"Man, stop with the caveman antics," he said with a laugh. "Yes. I had half a bagel with real butter and a slice of cheese, a container of vanilla yogurt, and a peach. Happy, Mom?" 

Jim laughed. "Yes, I'm happy, though I'd have thought you could eat at least one whole bagel." 

"Got to watch my girlish figure." 

"You need fifteen pounds on that girlish figure of yours before a stiff breeze blows you over." 

Blair slowly sat up and gave Jim a serious look. "Are you always this concerned about your customers?" 

Jim shrugged, pulling a glass casserole dish and a bowl from the cupboard. He unloaded the two bags he'd brought in with him. "I got enough stuff for a few meals. You don't mind if I store the groceries here, do you? It's easier than me shopping every day."

"No, man. It's cool. And the mac and cheese last night was delicious. Thank you." 

Jim's gaze found Blair's. He saw warmth and friendship in the sapphire eyes, and he smiled. "You didn't nuke the hell out of it?" 

"No, Jim. I didn't. I followed your instructions to the letter." 

With a nod of approval, Jim asked, "What are you reading?" while he turned on the oven and grabbed the mixing bowl. 

"Something dry and academic." 

"Oh? Tell me about it while I work. What you do. How you like your job. That sort of thing." 

"Really?" 

"Yes, really. I'm interested. While I work, you talk. I'd appreciate the company." 

"Okay. Great. Sure. Well, I'm a consultant and part-time profiler for the Cascade PD." 

"How long?" 

"About five years now, three of those full time. I did an internship there while I was studying for my PhD. When I graduated, they offered me a job, so I stayed." 

"What's your degree in?" 

Blair smiled wistfully and looked away for a moment before he said, "It's in psychology and criminal science, with a secondary degree in anthropology." 

Jim whistled. "Wow. I'm impressed. Why the extra degree in anthropology?"

"It's my first love. And it's a very useful science." 

Hearing the bit of longing in Blair's tone, Jim gave him a curious look. "So that's your hot button, Chief? Anthropology?" 

Blair raised an eyebrow. "Not hardly," he muttered before he added in a louder voice, "I have a lot of – hot buttons, Jim. I do enjoy anthropology, which helps me in profiling. It's a thrill to recreate a crime scene and to try and figure out what the perp was thinking or feeling. Now I have a question." 

"Sure," Jim wondered about the whispered words that he was sure Blair didn't know he'd heard. He smiled to himself. Blair seemed to like him, and that was a start. Maybe, just maybe, when Blair was well.... "Go ahead. Ask away." He lightly sprayed a small casserole dish with non-stick pan spray before scrubbing and slicing three small green zucchini into long, thin, flat strips. He layered the vegetable with lightly stewed plum tomatoes, fresh ricotta cheese and paper thin slices of buffalo mozzarella, seasoning the ingredients with sea salt, fresh-ground pepper, chopped fresh basil and finely minced garlic. Covering the dish loosely with foil, he slipped it into the pre-heated oven. 

"How do you know Simon? He's never mentioned you before." 

Jim held his breath for a second and his hands froze. Whenever he thought about his friendship with Simon, it was inevitably tied with their time together in the military and then with the police force. If not for Simon Banks, Jim Ellison would be dead. He owed the man his life, and Simon never acted like Jim owed him a thing. He liked Simon Banks more than any other person he'd known – until Blair. 

After a small pause, he said, "Simon's an old friend. We were in Special Forces together in Desert Storm. He saved my life and we've always kept in touch. When we came back, we both signed on with the Cascade PD." He shrugged. "His worked out. Mind didn't." Jim busied himself by piling the dishes he'd used beside the sink for washing. Blair was silent, waiting patiently, so Jim added, "I like him. He's trustworthy and steady under fire." He glanced at Blair, again happy with the interest he saw in the blue eyes watching him. "And he likes you." 

Blair looked pleased, but a bit puzzled. "He's a very good supervisor, but he's never said... I mean, I know he respects my talents, but he's not – you know –” 

"Simon is kind of gruff sometimes, but trust me on this. He wouldn't have taken up a collection for you and hired me if he didn't care." Jim rinsed and drained a bunch of broccoli. While he was dicing the vegetable, Blair rose and carefully walked from the sofa to the kitchen to lean against the counter. Jim watched, to be sure Blair was steady on his feet. "Simon says you're an asset to the department, Sandburg. He wouldn't have said that if he didn't mean it." 

"Thanks, Jim. That's nice to hear." He coughed a few times before he continued. "It smells good already and...." With a very warm smile, he added, "I like watching you cook." 

Jim smiled at the compliment. "I like you watching me cook. But you need to sit down." After wiping his hands on the dishtowel he had tossed over his shoulder, he carried a chair from the dining table over to where Blair stood. "Sit. After I get this quiche in the oven, we'll have that shower. Okay?" 

"Quiche?" Blair echoed. "I'm too manly for quiche." 

Jim laughed aloud. "When you taste this, you'll beg for more. This is different than your regular, run of the mill quiche." 

Blair joined Jim in laughter, wheezing when his lungs constricted, making Jim instantly turn toward him and touch his shoulder with a look of concern on his face. 

"Easy does it. Your lungs aren't up to a lot of hard work." 

"Sorry, man." Blair coughed for a moment before he caught his breath. "That wasn't too bad." 

"Did you take your meds?" 

"Yes, at six." 

"AM?" At Blair's nod, Jim glared. "What were you doing up at six? You're supposed to be resting." 

"Jim, man, give me a break! You came over yesterday and I slept two hours. Then you put me back to bed at what? Two? Three? I slept until eight. Got up, used the bathroom, ate again and went back to bed! I'm slept out right now, and I'm getting hungry."

Jim intently examined Blair's face while he allowed his senses to examine his body. He did seem a little better today. His lungs were still congested, but Jim's sensitive hearing could tell that there was a modicum of improvement. "Take your meds." Jim slid the two prescription bottles closer to Blair and opened a fresh bottle of water. He watched until his friend swallowed one of each prescription and chased them down with the water. "Good job." 

"Thanks, Mom." 

"Smart ass." Jim grinned, breaking six eggs into a bowl. He beat the eggs with a whisk, then added fat-free cream, salt, pepper, a pinch of cayenne, and some finely chopped onion. Satisfied that the ingredients were ready, he spread the broccoli in the bottom of a homemade pie crust that he'd brought with him from his own reserves, along with two handfuls of organic white cheddar cheese. Next he poured the egg concoction over the broccoli and cheese until the liquid came to just below the fluted edge of the crust. 

"Looks good, Jim," Blair encouraged. "When can we eat?" 

"This takes about forty-five minutes. That will give us enough time to get you that bath." Jim carefully set the full pie shell on a cookie sheet and put both into the oven on the center shelf. He set the timer and wiped his hands on the always-present tea towel. "Finished." 

"I can't wait!" Blair said enthusiastically. 

"I'm happy to see your appetite is returning." 

Blair shrugged. "You're a good cook. And there was a time when I liked to eat. I've missed that." 

"You'll enjoy it again. Now about that bath." 

"I'd rather shower." 

Jim shrugged this time. "As long as you don't mind if I join you." 

"What?" Blair said with surprise. "Join me? You mean – naked?" 

Jim crossed his arms. "You have a problem with that?" 

"Ah, Jim? We hardly know each other. Do you think that it's –” Blair's words dried up when he saw the amusement on Jim's face. "You rat. You're making fun of me." 

Jim laughed. "No, not making fun. Only teasing. But I'm kind of worried about you having a coughing attack and slipping. How about I help you wash your hair first? Then you can have a nice, hot soak." 

"You want to wash my hair?" Blair almost squeaked out the words. 

Jim blushed and turned away, now thoroughly embarrassed that he'd brought up the subject in the first place. Where did he get off thinking that he had the right to even ask if he could do that? Could actually be allowed to wash Sandburg's hair. And why did he want to anyway? Why did he want to touch Blair? They barely knew each other and here he was, taking liberties and pushing himself on a sick man. He hadn't meant the offer to be taken in a sexual manner, but... 

"Jim!"

Blair's voice finally registered. "What? Sorry, I got kind of – distracted." 

"So you did," Blair said with amusement. Jim arched an eyebrow, making him chuckle. "It's okay. I'd like it if you'd help me. I think I'd enjoy a bit of – attention." Then he held out his arm. "Give a guy a hand, will you?" 

Jim smiled, pleased at how readily Blair saw his momentary embarrassment and didn't scoff at him. Rather, he said the right words to try to make Jim feel at ease. "Sure, Chief. Glad to." Guiding his friend into the bathroom, Blair stripped without a hint of embarrassment while Jim removed the showerhead from its holder. After adjusting the taps, he ran his hand under the spray until it was comfortably hot. "Sit, Sandburg." He averted his eyes from the too-thin body, but he put out a hand. When Blair slipped his hand into Jim's, Jim nodded. "Nice and easy."

"I'm not eighty years old. At least not yet," Blair groused, coughing a few times. He allowed Jim to help him into the tub and he sat on the small plastic footstool Jim had brought in from the kitchen. 

"Hand me the shampoo." Blair reached for the bottle that sat on the small shelf next to his elbow and handed it to Jim, who stood next to the tub. "Close your eyes." Blair obliged. Jim wet the strands with the warm water and after it was soaked through, he placed the nozzle on the tub's floor. Squirting a stream of the shampoo into the center of his palm, Jim breathed in the enticing scent of hazelnut. "Nice stuff," He rubbed his hands together before moving them to Blair's head. He rubbed the long hair gently until he'd worked up a nice lather. Jim allowed his fingertips to gently massage the scalp, very pleased when Blair moaned softly. 

"God... Feels so good," Blair murmured, almost purring under Jim's touch. 

With a smile, Jim kept up his ministrations for another few minutes before he reached for the wand and after warning Blair that he was going to rinse, he used one hand to gently check for soap residue while he thoroughly rinsed out the shampoo. When Blair's dark locks felt clean, he allowed himself another few seconds to slip the sensual strands between his fingers before he declared, "Done." 

"Hmmm...?" Blair replied with a contented sigh. 

"Shampooing is done." 

"Condition, man. Long hair needs special care. There's a new bottle under the sink." 

Jim again released the shower wand and fetched the conditioner as requested. He popped the top and allowed the matching scent of hazelnut tickle his nose. "Smells good." 

"Yeah. I like it. My mom," he explained. 

Jim did the same thing with the conditioner, using a large glob that he rubbed between his palms to gently and thoroughly distribute the thick cream through Blair's hair. "Your mom?" 

"Uh hmm. She sends me stuff she thinks I need. Now comb it through and let it set for two minutes," Blair instructed. 

Jim glanced around and grabbed a wide-toothed comb from the counter top next to the sink. Carefully, he ran the comb through the long locks, spreading the conditioner completely. "Two minutes, starting now." 

Blair chuckled. "It doesn't have to be exact. Just long enough to let the stuff do its work. Then give me a good rinse, and we're done." 

Jim retrieved his shower wand yet again and after pausing for a few more moments, he started rinsing while running his fingers through Blair's hair. He used the excuse to again enjoy the feel of the strands against his sensitive skin. "It feels – nice. Kind of soft. A bit slick. I like it." 

"Cool. Thow it should feel." 

Jim continued to rinse, oblivious to Blair's chuckle. His receptive fingertips caressed the wet strands delicately while the texture of the hair sent shivers of delight through his arm. He could feel individual strands against his skin, soft and scented. He almost spaced out on the wonderful sensations when he realized that Blair had reached up and grabbed his wrist. 

"Earth to Jim!" 

"Chief?" 

"Where did you go? I was starting to get worried." 

"Sorry," Jim muttered, flipping the stopper for the drain and turning on the faucets so that the tub would fill. He tested the water. "Too hot?" 

"Nope. Feels wonderful." Coughing lightly, Blair opened a bottle sitting along the tub's inner rim and added several squirts to the water. The unfamiliar scent wafted to Jim's nose, making him sniff deeply. Blair cleared his throat and smiled. "You like this?" 

"Yes. What is it?" 

"Cotton blossom. My mother yet again. She gave it to me for Christmas." 

"Nice." When the tub filled to a good soaking depth, Blair rose and sat the small stool on the floor before leaning back onto the towel that Jim conveniently rolled up and offered to place behind his head. 

"Relax. I'm going to check on dinner." Jim rose and enjoyed the sight of Blair lounging in the tub for a moment. 

"Yeah, yeah," Blair murmured, drowsy from the warmth. 

"Don't fall asleep. I don't want you drowning." 

Blair gasped softly, making Jim's eyes widen. When their eyes met, Jim saw fear in the blue depths and for a moment he was confused before he remembered. "Oh, geez, Sandburg. I'm really sorry! I completely forgot about the...." Jim fell silent and shifted uncomfortably. 

Blair sighed. "No, no. It's okay. Sometimes even I – forget. I almost drowned. It seems so – unreal sometimes, but then it all comes back like a bad dream. Over and over." 

Jim knelt beside the tub and touched Blair's wet, warm shoulder with his fingers. "I'm sorry it happened to you. And I'm glad you're okay." 

"So am I." 

Jim smiled into Blair's contented eyes. "You relax and I'll be right back." Blair nodded and gave Jim a lazy wet wave. With a fond look at his friend, Jim rose and went to check on the food. 

\-------------------------------------- 

"That was wonderful!" Blair said, running his fork around the plate to catch the errant pie crust crumbs from the quiche he had just finished. 

"You don't have to lick the plate, you know. There's more, you know." Jim smiled at Blair's enthusiasm, and he was quite taken with the light blush that rose on his cheeks. Jim lowered his voice and said softly, "I'm glad you liked it." 

Blair nodded, giving Jim a shy smile. "I liked it. Very much." His tone let Jim know that it wasn't only the food that he had enjoyed. "The texture was wonderful. The broccoli was cooked just right, and I love cheese." 

"Good," Jim responded. "Well...." He rose. "Let me clean –” A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. 

"Wonder who it is?" Blair mused. 

"It's probably something I asked to be brought over," Jim said with a glance at his watch. "They were supposed to deliver between noon and two." 

"Deliver?" Blair echoed. 

"Yeah." Without further explanation, Jim opened the door and waved in the man dressed in a white shirt and brown slacks, and pushing a dolly on which sat a small freezer unit. 

"Jim?" 

Jim shrugged and said nonchalantly, "It's an extra I had lying around my place. I thought you might put it to good use. I want my food to be properly stored, not to mention the fact that your fridge has about one foot of storage space." At Blair's surprised look, Jim asked, "Where do you want it? Maybe in the spare room? Then it will be out of the way." 

Blair nodded, mouth open. Jim grinned and showed the man the way. He then escorted the delivery person out with a word of thanks. 

Blair walked over to the spare room and watched while Jim plugged in the freezer and checked the light to be sure the unit was operating. Looking up, he said, "We'll give it an hour, then transfer the containers that I've already fixed up into it. The veggie lasagna will be cool enough to freeze by then also. I'll add a few servings of whatever I cook each day and once my stint is over, you'll be set for a couple of months for meals." 

"Over?" Blair echoed, still looking surprised, but somewhat unhappy when he said the word. He cleared his throat. "It's too much! I can't –” 

Rising, Jim walked over to his friend and said quietly, "Let me do this, Sandburg. Please. It's nothing really. I'd have given it to the Goodwill otherwise." 

"You're sure it was an extra?" 

"Does it look brand new?" 

"Well ... no, but it's still pretty nice." 

"It's not that big of a deal. Besides, I want you to have it." 

"It's big to me,," Blair said sincerely, giving him a warm smile. "Thank you." 

Jim grinned. "You're welcome. Now how about a nap?" 

Blair groaned. 

\--------------------------------------------

"Time's wasting, Chief. Do you need help? You don't want to be late for your doctor's appointment," Jim called, taking the large pot off the stove and carrying it over to the table. He set the pan on a trivet and removed the lid, revealing a savory beef stew. He sniffed the steaming contents and enjoyed the scents of lean tender beef, tiny red potatoes, colorful baby carrots, and flavorful celery. The gravy was just the way he liked it: not too thick, not too thin, and flavored with fresh parsley and thyme, a hint of garlic, sea salt and ground pepper. 

Accompanying the stew were fresh-baked whole-wheat biscuits with real butter, a tossed salad of crispy romaine, tender baby spinach, and sweet grape tomatoes, drizzled with Jim's special raspberry almond vinaigrette. 

Calling out again, Jim said, "And you're not going without eating." 

The door to the spare room opened and Blair walked over to the kitchen table. 

"No cane?" Jim asked. 

Blair held out his hands, palms up. "Since you started feeding me last week, I think I'm getting much better. I don't need the cane and I feel pretty good. My cough is almost gone, and I haven't used the oxygen for three days." 

"That's great!" Jim beamed. "I'm so glad you're doing better." 

"Thanks, man. I think you're a big part of why I'm improving so much." 

"I've only been cooking, Sandburg." 

"It's more than that, Jim," Blair said seriously. "You – care. Thanks." 

"No problem. Now sit and eat." 

"It smells wonderful." 

Blair sat and Jim served him a good-sized portion of stew. He placed a biscuit on Blair's bread plate and pushed the butter within easy reach. Then he dished out a nice helping of salad. 

Picking up his fork, Blair tasted the greens first. "Oh, man," he said softly. "This dressing is wonderful." 

"Thanks." Jim grinned and sat down. He served himself some of the food and with his knife, split and buttered his biscuit. Taking a bite, he smiled. "Not bad." 

"It's a good thing I don't have to bug you anymore about eating with me. It was getting tiring." Blair gave Jim a smirk. "It's just easier if you do what I want without all that grousing around." 

Jim rolled his eyes and shook his head at Blair before spearing a forkful of salad. He chewed slowly, savoring the flavors. Raspberry vinaigrette danced on his tongue while the hint of almond merrily sparked his taste buds. The extra virgin olive oil added to the sensations and he closed his eyes, allowing the tastes to meld together. 

"You do enjoy your food," Blair said with a smile, blowing on a spoonful of hot stew. Tentatively he tasted, taking care not to burn his tongue. He blew again before he began to eat. Making small sounds of appreciation, Blair ate slowly, enjoying the food.

Jim watched Blair's obvious pleasure. He smiled. "I like cooking for you," he said simply. 

Blair gave Jim a dazzling smile. "And I like you cooking for me." 

The men chatted while they ate, discussing the Jags latest season, debated their favorite fishing tackle, and panned the new blockbuster movie that had been released the previous weekend. For Jim, all too soon, they were finished eating and it was time for him to clean up and for Blair to leave for his appointment. 

"You look nice," Jim mentioned while he was clearing the table. Blair was dressed in a light blue shirt dotted with small yellow squares, dark blue slacks and a brown jacket. His hair was clean and shiny, and to Jim, Blair's recovering health was reflected in the long strands. Just last week, even when Blair's hair was clean, it was limp and lifeless. Now it gleamed, curling into tendrils that begged to be touched. It took all of Jim's willpower not to run his fingers through the silky hair. To let it slide over his skin and tickle his wrists. Tamping down the sudden rush to his lower body, Jim turned his mind to washing dishes. To the hot water, he added a stream of dishwashing liquid and concentrated on the bubbles while waiting for his body to relax. 

Blair picked up the phone and dialed. When he started to speak, Jim's hands stopped their activity and he turned toward Blair. 

"Sandburg." 

Blair put his finger over the receiver. "In a second, Jim." He returned to his call when the phone was snatched from his fingers. 

"Hey!" Blair cried. "What the heck are you doing?" He glared at Jim, who stood in front of him with his soapy hand on the receiver, dripping water onto the clean kitchen floor. 

"I'll take you." Speaking into the phone, he said, "Thanks. We won't need the cab after all." Then he hung up and glanced at his friend. "I want to drive you. You don't need to spend money on a cab,. All you had to do was ask. And what's wrong with your car?" 

Blair shook his head. "Whoa. Okay. First thing, you don't have to drive me. I'm perfectly capable of getting to Fremont Street on my own." 

Jim gave Blair a disgruntled look. "Listen. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – push. I just want to help." He started to turn away when Blair's hand touched his arm. 

"Well... Thanks, that's really nice. I'd appreciate the company. As for my car, I went down yesterday to start it and the battery's dead." With a shrug, Blair continued, "I hadn't had much need for it when I was sick and I have to admit, I completely forgot about it for the last few weeks. When I finally felt well enough this week to check it out, it wouldn't start and I haven't had a chance to get somebody over to look at it. Besides, I'm surprised it wasn't towed as abandoned." 

"Don't you have a Cascade PD parking permit on it?" 

"Well, yes." 

"Then you know the patrols heard from Simon not to bother it. I'd bet on that, Sandburg." 

Blair raised an eyebrow. "You think so? Gee, I didn't know..." He chuckled softly. "The captain likes to put on a tough front and sometimes I forget what a nice guy he is. It's just like him to do that without telling me." Giving Jim a warm smile, Blair added, "Thanks for the offer. As long as you don't mind chauffeuring me around, I'd like it." 

"You're welcome. When we get back, I'll look at your car. We can jump it with my truck if it's only a dead battery." 

"Now wait a second. You don't-” 

Waving a soapy hand, Jim interrupted. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I don't have to. But I want to." 

"Thanks, man. You're a good friend." 

Jim smiled and finished rinsing the last of the dishes. "Just let me pop the stew in the fridge to cool and I'll be ready." 

\-------------------------------------------

Blair was animated on the drive to the doctor's office. "I'm sure he'll let me go back to work. I'm tired of sitting at home!" 

"Don't get your hopes up. You're still not at one hundred percent yet. I think you need to rest for a bit longer." 

Blair turned curious eyes on Jim. "How do you know that?" 

Jim shrugged. "I can still hear a bit of congestion in your chest." 

"You can? Jim, that's – amazing." 

"Yeah, no big deal." Jim pulled into the medical center parking lot, glad that Blair was distracted from Jim's revelation by directing him to the north side of the building where his doctor's office was located. 

Blair opened the door. "You coming in?" 

"If you don't mind, I think I'll run over to the shopping center across the road. Call me on your cell when you're finished." 

"Will do." 

Jim watched until Blair disappeared behind the glass door. He was thrilled that Blair seemed to be well on the road to recovery, and he hoped that he was part of that progress. Maybe, just maybe after Blair was declared fit, he would see if his friend was interested in more from their relationship. When the time came, he hoped that he would be able to express his feelings to Blair. He knew he hid behind his often standoffish exterior, but inside, he felt the need to protect his heart to the extreme after several failed romances that left him wondering if he were capable of sustaining a long-term relationship. Being practical, Jim decided to not worry about what hadn't happened yet, and turned his thoughts to other matters. 

Jim pulled out of the parking lot and headed over to the stores across from the medical plaza. While he shopped, he thought about his friendship with Blair. They liked a lot of the same things, in spite of their lives and upbringing being so different. Jim had been raised by a distant father and Blair never knew his father at all. Blair was outgoing and curious. Jim was rather quiet and serious, although he enjoyed Blair's enthusiastic ways. It made Jim feel more alive being around Blair, even when they were just sitting and talking, or watching a Jags game, as they had done one evening at the end of last week. 

Wandering through The Whole Foods Market, Jim picked up a few items he needed, and a couple of things he thought Blair might enjoy. He bought a pound of freshly ground Costa Rican coffee and some organic milk, a bag of apples, and two quarts of fresh strawberries. At the cheese counter, he chose a pound of Brie, a half-pound of buttery Swiss, and a pound of his favorite, white all-natural Cheddar. He stowed the perishable groceries in the portable cooler he had installed in his truck when he started his cooking enterprise. The twelve-volt cooler he used was great for transporting any food items that required refrigeration and ran off the truck's electrical system. He tucked the rest of the groceries into the small crates he kept in the truck bed so that items stayed where he put them, and closed the retractable tonneau cover, locking it securely. 

Jim's cell phone rang shortly after he'd secured his purchases. With a smile, he drove back to the doctor's office and picked up a somewhat serious Sandburg. 

"Hey," Blair said quietly, climbing in. He dropped a small white bag on the seat next to Jim. 

"You look like you lost your best friend. I take it he didn't give you good news."

"No... Well, kind of. He said I was doing great, and was impressed at the improvement from two weeks ago, but..." Blair sighed. 

"He didn't release you for work." 

"No, he didn't. Darn it anyway." 

"I bought fresh strawberries," Jim said. 

Blair turned unhappy blue eyes toward Jim. With a knowing smile, he said, "I appreciate the effort to make me feel better." 

"What did he say?"

"I'm supposed to take this new medication, and after the ten day supply is used, he'll give me a recheck. Then he'll tell me if I'm cleared for work. He says right now, I'm too – susceptible to a relapse. I'm..." Blair made quotation marks with his fingers, "'very vulnerable at this stage', so I have to follow doctor's orders, I guess." With a sigh, he picked up the medication bag and glanced at the label. 

Jim started the drive home, mindlessly talking to keep Blair's mind occupied while he stared out of the window for about half the drive until he finally started joining in on the conversation. By the time they got to the loft, Blair seemed to be resigned to the fact that he had another ten days of sick leave to deal with.

"You hungry?" Jim asked, riding up on the elevator. 

"Do you ever think about anything other than food?" Blair asked with a smile. 

"Yeah. I think about my truck, and the Jags, and... lots of stuff," Jim said defensively, wondering if his face revealed any of the turmoil his heart was having being near Blair. He loved his days and was desperately afraid they would end. 

Blair smiled, putting a hand on Jim's arm. "Let's go to a movie or something." 

"I'd love to." Jim smiled, wondering if this was "a date" or just two friends hanging out. Not wanting to put any damper on the offer, Jim mentally shrugged off the thought. "Which one?" 

"Something fun. Full of car chases and blowing up things, and bad guys, and beautiful women." 

Laughing, Jim used his key to open the door. "After you take your meds. And we have dinner." 

"Deal," Blair answered happily, taking the small brown bottle with his new prescription from the bag and tossing the paper into the trash. 

Jim busied himself with the makings for dinner while Blair read the instructions for taking the new medication, and he kept a close eye on his friend to make sure that he took the pills. 

"So what's for dinner?" Blair asked, sipping from the bottle of water he'd opened to take his medication. 

"You hungry?" 

"Always." 

Jim smiled. "I'm making some nice salmon. Do you like Brussels sprouts?" 

"Yes, but I haven't had them in years. My mom –” 

"What about your mother?" Jim glanced up and his eyes widened. Blair's face was pale and his breathing shaky. He held his hand over his mouth and looked at Jim with wide, distressed eyes. "Blair?" 

"I – don't feel – I feel sick... Jim..." Blair reached out his hand. 

Jim raced around the counter to Blair's side, making it in time to catch him when he slumped sideways and his eyes rolled back. "Sandburg!" Jim lowered Blair to the floor and grabbed his cell phone. Dialing 911, he called for an ambulance at 852 Prospect. Pocketing the phone, he knelt beside Blair and felt his forehead. His skin was cold and clammy, his breathing fast and shallow. His Army medic experience told him that Blair was having some kind of a reaction to the medication he'd just taken. Jim rose and jammed the pill bottle into his pocket, hunkered down, and picked up Blair. Racing to the door, he managed to open it one-handed and didn't bother to close it behind him as he hurried to the elevator. 

Pushing open the ground-level door with his back, he carried Blair out into the cool night air. Listening, he heard the ambulance approaching so he stood and waited impatiently, scanning his friend's vitals to be sure he didn't need any immediate intervention. The ambulance roared down the block; Jim was standing beside it with Blair in his arms before the EMTs had a chance to exit the vehicle. 

"I think he's had a reaction to a new medication!" Jim cried. 

"Yes, sir," the older woman said, racing to the back to yank out a gurney. 

Jim gently placed his burden down, stepping back while the EMTs did their job. They soon had Blair stable, IV started, ER notified, and were racing toward Cascade Memorial. Jim climbed in beside Blair, and was pleased to see his friend regain consciousness on the way to the ER. He held Blair's hand and spoke soothingly, keeping well out of the way of the EMT monitoring Blair's vitals. 

"Here's what he took," Jim said, handing over the pill bottle. 

"Good. This will definitely help. Most people don't think about bringing meds along. It makes the lab's job much easier." The EMT nodded her thanks to Jim, who returned the nod with one of his own. 

Simon Banks was waiting at the emergency room, pacing the waiting area, when Blair was wheeled in and taken to one of the cubicles. 

"Ellison!" 

"Simon? How did you know about this?" 

"I heard the ambulance call go out on my emergency band radio from my car. When I heard Sandburg's address, I raced over. Is he okay?" 

"I think there was a problem with the new meds his doctor gave him this afternoon. It was too coincidental and happened soon after he took the pills. Maybe he's allergic." Jim glanced toward the room where Blair was being helped. He focused briefly before he turned back to Simon. "I hope he's okay, Simon. He's – important to me." 

Simon chewed on the end of his cigar, eying Jim closely. "He's special all right." 

Jim raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad to hear you say that because... Well, he's told me that he's not sure you even like him." 

"What? Where in the hell did he get that idea?" Simon said, confused. 

"Could it be your warm and cuddly personality?" Jim quipped. 

"Now you listen here. Just because I don't coddle –” Simon stopped, scowling. "You are such an ass." 

Jim shrugged. "I know how you are. We've been friends for years so I'm used to your personality, but Sandburg... He's a heck of a lot more sensitive than I am. I think he'd appreciate a thoughtful word once in a while." 

"Oh, for goodness sake. All right. I'll tell him he's a valued member of my team. But I don't run an encounter group! Happy?" 

Jim smiled. "Ecstatic." 

Simon nodded toward the door. "Here's the doctor." 

Jim turned toward the older man approaching. "I'm Jim Ellison. How's Blair?" 

"He's doing well," the doctor said. "We counteracted the reaction to the medication. Your quick response most likely saved his life. He'll be just fine." 

"May I see him?" 

"Yes. In fact, we'll keep an eye on him for another hour or so, then you can take him home." The doctor pointed down the hall. "He's in Observation Room 5." 

"Thank you." Jim walked quickly toward the room, closely followed by Simon, who also thanked the doctor. Pushing open the door, Jim poked his head in. "Hey, Sandburg. You lounging around or what?" 

Blair smiled sleepily. "Hey, Jim." 

"Simon's here too." 

"Oh, hi, Captain." 

"Sandburg." At Jim's sideways glance, Simon cleared his throat. "Blair, you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Seems that the pharmacy gave me the wrong prescription. The doctor said I should have had two hundred milligram pills instead of four hundred. Kind of zapped me. Otherwise, I'm okay now. I just feel really tired." 

"That's good," Simon said, awkwardly patting Blair's leg. "You take it easy. Now that you're okay..." Simon waved toward the door. 

Blair gave Simon a small smile. "Night, Captain. Thanks for caring." 

"Good night, Sandburg. Ellison." 

"See you later, Banks," Jim said. "Thanks." 

"Right." Simon waved a hand. "You both take care." 

"You feel well enough to go home, or would you rather rest here tonight?" 

"No! Please, I want to go home.” 

"Whoa, Sandburg. Slow down. I was just asking. The doctor says you can leave in about an hour." 

"Okay. I want to sleep at home." 

Jim smiled and put a hand on Blair's shoulder. "Why don't you nap while we wait for you to be released?" 

Blair yawned and said groggily, "I'm not sleepy." 

"Yes, I know," Jim said softly as Blair's eyes slipped shut and he dozed off. "God, Chief, you scared the hell out of me." 

Blair's response was a light snuffle and a tired sigh. 

\-----------------------------------

"You don't have to stay," Blair said uncertainly. "Really..." He shuffled over to the sofa and sank down. "I'm okay." 

"If you insist, I'll leave, but I'd be just as happy sacking out on the couch. I'd feel a lot better staying over." 

Blair nodded wearily. "I'm too tired to argue about it." 

Jim put fresh water into the teakettle. "Let's have a nice hot cup of my tea, then you can sleep. How does that sound?" 

"Good. We missed dinner." 

Jim shrugged. "You hungry? How about some toast?" 

Blair gave Jim a tired smile. "You know, that sounds good. May I have cinnamon on mine?" 

Jim grinned. "Of course. It does sound good. Now that I know you're okay, I'm suddenly hungry. Crispy toast coming right up." Happily, Jim sliced into a loaf of whole wheat bread and dropped four slices into the toaster. He fetched butter, a jar of cinnamon and the sugar bowl, and set them beside the toaster. He added a tea bag to each cup, along with a dollop of milk. The toast popped; he spread the four slices with butter, then sprinkled on cinnamon and a dusting of sugar. He cut the slices into wedges and put them on a plate. 

Slicing four more pieces, Jim put the bread into the toaster. He carried the plate of already-made cinnamon toast over to the coffee table. "Eat, while they're warm. I'm making more." 

The teakettle whistled. Jim poured the hot water over the tea and added a spoon to each cup. He placed the teacups on the coffee table, along with a container of honey and another small plate on which to put the used tea bags. The second round of toast popped, so he hurriedly prepared the bread. Joining Blair, he sat close to his friend. 

"Good, Jim," Blair said around a mouthful. "I feel much better with some food on my stomach." Adding a dollop of honey to his tea, he stirred before he sipped the hot, fragrant herbal mix." Oh, man. This is wonderful." 

With Jim beaming, Blair drank more tea and ate another piece of toast. Jim likewise drank his tea and polished off the toast that Blair hadn't finished. When the final piece disappeared, Jim wrapped his hand around the warm cup and sat back beside his friend. 

"I'm happy you're all right," Jim said quietly, sipping the warm tea. He savored the chamomile/lemon flavor on his tongue, and enjoyed the warmth as the tea traveled to his belly. 

"Me, too," Blair said with a warm smile. "And thank you." 

Jim shrugged. "No big deal." 

"It is to me. You're a good friend, and I need a friend right now." 

"Just right now?" Jim asked teasingly. 

Blair rolled his eyes. "No, silly. You know what I mean! You came at just the right time. Perfect, in fact. I was feeling – depressed. You've made me feel good again." 

Jim blushed under Blair's kind words and warm gaze. "Thanks," he muttered, making Blair chuckle. 

"Such a macho guy, aren't you? Wouldn't want to embarrass you by getting all mushy." 

"Go to bed, Sandburg," Jim groused teasingly. "You're rambling." 

Blair smiled. "Yeah, yeah. I'm going. I need a shower." 

"You can shower in the morning. After breakfast." 

Blair started to rise. Jim was right beside him, but Blair waved him off. "I'm good. Really. I feel okay, just tired. 'night." 

"Sleep well." 

"You too." 

\-------------------------------------

"Morning, Sandburg." 

"Hello. It's good to see you!" 

Blair's enthusiastic greeting made Jim smile and shake his head with affectionate exasperation. "A little stir crazy, are we?" he asked, walking over to where Blair was sitting at the dining table, typing on his laptop. He leaned down on the table with a hand and said, "Five more days, then you can go back to the doctor for a recheck." 

Blair saved his work and shut the top. "Yeah, I know. I'm just..." He shrugged. 

"Antsy?" 

"I guess," he responded quietly. "What? No grocery bags?" Blair added. 

Jim held out his empty hands. "You're gaining too much weight. We can't send you back to work all fat and sassy now, can we?" 

Blair gave Jim an exasperated look, making Jim grin. He loved it when Blair turned his full attention on him. His blue eyes sparkled, his gaze was – almost loving, and he had the ability to make Jim feel so damned important, and even interesting. "But I'm hungry!" he whined. 

Jim let out a bark of laugher. "Get your jacket. The food's – somewhere else." 

Blair looked at Jim like he'd grown two heads. "Somewhere else?" he asked suspiciously. "That sounds – weird. Is it – alive?" 

Now Jim really laughed. "No! Geez, Sandburg. Get a grip. We're going out to commune with nature." 

"We are? Great!" Blair rose and slipped into his shoes. "Do I need to bring anything?" 

"Only yourself." 

"Let me use the john before we go, just in case. My mother says never pass up a chance to use the toilet." 

Jim laughed, holding up his hands. "Way too much information. Hurry your ass up. Time's wasting." 

Blair laughed, and hurried. Soon the men were heading out of town on the bright, sunny day. It was a bit cool in the shade, but otherwise, the sky was very blue with huge, white fluffy clouds dotting the heavens. With a contented sigh, Blair sat back and glanced around. 

"It's nice to see you feeling better." Jim cast a quick glance at his friend, pleased to see the color in his cheeks. Blair's hair was lustrous, long and curly, cascading down over his shoulders. The flashes of sunlight that flitted through the window danced off the brown strands. Jim had to blink at the brilliance of it. He gave himself a stern talking-to. He was taking Blair for an outing so that he wouldn't feel quite too cooped up. He'd be friendly and polite. He'd keep his hands to himself. He'd make sure Blair enjoyed himself, took in a bit of sun, and breathed clean, fresh air. At the end of his private tirade, he swore he'd abide by his own instructions. 

"What?" Blair asked, face open and happy. "You have gas?" 

"No, I do not have gas!" Jim shook his head. "Geez, what a question!" 

Blair smiled. "You had this funny look. I was just asking." 

"Sandburg... You are hilarious sometimes." 

Blair shrugged. "I aim to please." 

Jim's head turned quickly and he carefully examined the side of Blair's face. His words seemed – inviting somehow, but when Jim surveyed Blair for a moment before turning his eyes back on the road, he didn't sense anything – unusual. 

Jim was a bit confused, so he asked his usual question. "Are you hungry?" 

"Starved!" 

"Good. I brought lots of good grub." 

"I'm sure you did." That voice, so deep and – husky. 

Jim's eyes widened. Again, he looked over at Blair. His tone was definitely – encouraging. Jim could hear the subtle inflection, but he wasn't one hundred percent sure Blair knew he sounded that way. Damn it anyway. Jim sighed, and reminded himself to stick by his guns. He wouldn't act until Blair actually said something about being interested. Otherwise, he chalked it up to Blair's outgoing, friendly personality, and he was more than happy to have Blair for a friend. Besides, he didn't want to screw up this relationship. It was too important. 

\------------------------------

"God..." Blair turned around, eyes wide. "It's so beautiful here!" 

"It is. It's a favorite place of mine." Basket in hand, Jim admired the vista spread out before him. 

Jim stood, with Blair beside him, on a small knoll surrounded by towering pines. The crunchy needles under his feet sounded like music to his city-tired ears. The lake, cold, small and dark, spread out before them, with some of the trees actually growing half in and half out of the water. A very tiny clearing at the water's edge beckoned invitingly to him, so he moved toward it. 

Blair walked forward silently, almost reverently. He carefully spread out the blanket that he carried, making sure that it was rock-free underneath. Jim joined him, placing the picnic hamper in the middle and with a silent smile, invited Blair to sit. Together, almost afraid to speak, to interfere with the sounds of nature – birds chirping, squirrels chattering, fish plopping as they jumped out of the water, reaching for a juicy bug – they sat side by side with legs crossed, and enjoyed the scenery for many long minutes. 

Wordlessly, Jim turned toward Blair and moved to unload the basket, spreading the feast out between them. Blair also turned, leaving a small space between he and Jim, who handed Blair a bottle of sparking grape juice, and when Blair raised an eyebrow in question, he just shrugged. Blair smiled. Jim didn't have to explain that until his friend was finished with his medication, there would be no alcohol from Jim's end. Blair found glasses in the basket and, after opening the juice, poured each of them a glass. 

Jim opened containers and after carefully setting aside the lids, handed Blair a fork. When he looked for a plate, Jim gave Blair an innocent look and handed him a napkin. He gestured at Blair to eat, and Blair again nodded, spearing a piece of lobster from the salad. He let out an appreciative moan at the flavor. Jim followed suit, taking a forkful of salad. The flavors burst on his tongue – apples, red bell peppers, water chestnuts, celery and lobster, combined with light dressing of mayonnaise and Dijon mustard, flavored with salt, pepper, lemon juice and a dash of hot sauce. 

After a few more moans of delight, Blair moved onto the next container. The oven baked white meat chicken fillets were crunchy and flavorful, dipped into the spicy barbecue-type sauce that Jim provided. Both men ate a fillet, laughing when the red sauce dripped down Jim's chin. Blair reached over and wiped it with a finger, which he then sucked into his mouth. Jim felt himself flush at the suggestive motion, but he coughed into his napkin to hide his spike of desire, sure it showed on his face. 

Blair smiled before dipping his fork into the container holding a cold broccoli dish. Nodding happily, he ate several florets, wiping them in the sauce pooled at the bottom of the container. Jim joined him, teeth crunching on the bright green, lightly blanched vegetable. A dash of soy sauce added salty goodness to the extra virgin olive oil, red pepper flakes, salt and pepper. The friends ate until most of the broccoli was finished before Blair licked the back of his fork and moved on to the next container. 

Not needing a fork, he reached out and plucked a piece of the rolled sandwich. The bread, whole wheat and dark, was rolled thin with the crusts removed and spread with a pink filling. Jim took one of the tidbits and popped it into his mouth. Salmon spread, full of tantalizing flavors, made him sigh happily. When he concentrated, he could taste each flavor – salmon, cream cheese, lemon juice, dill, horseradish, salt and fresh pepper. The cool treat added to the meal's enjoyment, and he ate four of the small spirals. 

Sipping his juice, Jim watched Blair make another round through the food containers. He watched his friend's pleasure and his heart fluttered. When Blair raised his eyes and smiled, Jim returned the look with one full of affection. Blair blushed lightly under Jim's intense scrutiny. Jim thought he looked – delicious. He wished he could reach out and eat him up right here and now. Dragging his errant thoughts away, he reached into the basket and extracted two final containers. 

Blair raised an eyebrow and groaned theatrically, making Jim laugh lightly. Very slowly, he opened the last two containers, and just as slowly revealed their contents. Crisp, vanilla flavored cookies, brown and dotted with slivered almonds, sat in an inviting pile. The other container held fresh fruit, unadorned and cool: slices of strawberries, nectarines and peaches, along with whole raspberries and blueberries. Blair reached out for a cookie, but Jim pulled the container away, shaking his head. Blair curiously watched until Jim held out a cookie with a slice of strawberry topping it for Blair to taste. Knowingly, Blair moved his upper body toward Jim and opened his mouth. Jim held the treat while Blair bit. Pulling back slightly, Blair chewed slowly and appreciatively, his eyes closed. When he opened them, their gazes met. Eyes locked, Jim moved closer. Blair licked his lips and closed his eyes. Even closer... until Jim could feel the heat from Blair's face dust his. He could feel Blair's warm breath on his skin. He could smell the musky scent that identified Blair as – Blair. He was a millimeter away before he froze. Unable to force himself to move that last fraction, to taste what he wanted, to take what he needed; he managed to pull back and wait. 

"Chief..." Jim finally spoke. "I'm... sorry." 

Blair's eyes flew open. "Sorry? Oh, geez, Jim. Don't worry about it. It was – the heat of the moment." He smiled. 

Jim felt relieved and a bit disappointed. He admired Blair's ability to recover so quickly. While he could sense Blair's disappointment too, he guessed that neither man was willing to risk their growing friendship. He knew he wasn't. At least, not right now. But soon. He couldn't wait much longer, but he couldn't yet take that final step forward. 

"May I have the rest of that?" Blair asked, pointing at the half-eaten treat still held in Jim's fingers. 

Jim blushed. "Ah, yeah. Sure." He carefully placed the dessert into Blair's outstretched hand. To hide his shaking fingers, he took one of the treats for himself and ate slowly, enjoying the flavor of real vanilla that he'd used. It was a favorite of his, and he was pleased at the outcome of the cookies. They'd held their crisp texture very well in spite of the traveling. Each man ate several cookies as well as quite a bit of the fresh fruit. 

Meal finished, Jim packed up the leftovers and wiped his hands on a wet wipe. Blair followed suit, helping pass the used utensils and glasses to Jim, then wiping his own hands. Jim rose and smiled down at Blair, who returned the smile. 

"Walk?" Jim invited. 

"Yes. Definitely."

Together, they walked through the woods, skirting the small lake, talking softly so as not to disturb any wildlife. They took their time, stopping to examine wild flowers, animal spoor, and the occasional track in the mud along the bank of the lake. They crossed the small stream that bubbled out of the mountains and kept the lake well fed, and eventually made it back to their starting point. 

Flopping down on the blanket, Jim laced his hands together and put them behind his head. Blair followed, mimicking Jim. With Jim focusing on his companion, he closed his eyes and drifted along. He heard Blair's body shift into sleep so he rolled to his side and propped his head on his hand. He watched Blair sleep, imprinting the vision into his brain. He sniffed slightly, enjoying Blair's scent, and he reached out a hand to finger a strand of hair between his thumb and index finger. With a sigh of longing, he rolled back and closed his eyes to doze lightly while Blair rested. 

\---------------------------------------------------

On the drive home, Jim didn't interrupt Blair when he started to talk. He listened – very attentively. 

"I thought I was in love, " Blair said, opening up the conversation. He paused. 

For a moment, Jim thought that was all he was going to say, but he decided to wait. He knew how he sometimes needed to regroup when his thoughts tumbled over each other, begging to burst out, but unable to in any reasonable order. Jim's patience was rewarded. 

"She was special. She had five heightened senses. Something – someone I'd been very interested in during my early anthro days. A guardian. A watchman. Or watch-woman," he added dryly. "A Sentinel. Something rare and precious. Something to be honored and admired and – loved. I thought I loved her, but man, now I know it was infatuation. Still, I felt something for her." Another pause. "But she used me. Played me like a cheap piano and dumped my ass in that fountain because she was done with me.

"I tried to help her. I **did** help her! I helped her gain control so she could steal and lie and – kill. So she tried to kill me and disappeared. She's still out there." Blair wrapped his arms around his chest and shivered. "I can feel her sometimes. She still... I don't know, needs me. But I don't ever want to be near her again. Never. I hate how she made me feel. Insignificant and useless. Something to be thrown away when she was finished. 

"I'm always too fucking trusting. Like with you. I let you into my life. Into my home. But you aren't hurtful. You're kind and trustworthy. You've made me feel like I'm worth something again. I admit that I was feeling damned sorry for myself before you came in with your recipes and knives and pots and pans. I kept getting sicker and sicker, and I know... I know it was because I didn't care anymore, but now... I care. I want to be around for a long while and I want us to be good friends." Blair wiped his hands down his face before he rubbed his eyes. "God, am I pathetic or what?"

Now Jim knew he could – should speak. "You're the best person I've met in years. I'm glad I was able to help." 

"What about...?" Blair looked out the window. Jim could see his shoulders slump, and he knew why. 

"Just because my paid services are coming to an end, doesn't mean we won't continue our relationship. In fact, I'd like to. A lot." 

Blair's head swiveled and his eyes searched out Jim's. "Me, too. Promise." 

Jim grinned. "Yeah. Promise. Want to spit into our palms and shake?" 

At that, Blair laughed. "I'd rather cut our fingers and mingle our blood. Then we'd be blood brothers. Friends forever." 

Jim laughed, and they rode home singing along to the oldies on the radio. 

\-------------------------------------------

"What in the world do you have there, Jim?" Blair asked, laughing, when Jim walked into the loft, carrying a nicely woven Indian basket full of bright, colorful adornments. 

"Happy Birthday, Chief." 

"Jim, my birthday's next Friday. A week away." 

Jim shrugged, placing the basket in the center of the dining table. "So I was anxious. Can I help it if I want to celebrate early?" 

Blair laughed. "Man, this is beautiful! And edible, too, I see." 

Jim grinned. "Of course it's edible." 

"It must have taken you hours!" 

Again Jim shrugged, but he also blushed under Blair's knowing gaze. "Try two days." 

"Wow. May I?"

"It's yours, Sandburg." 

"I can't decide. Each one is just too beautiful to eat." 

"They're cookies. You'd better eat them, even if they turned out quite nice." 

"Nice? Man, nice isn't nearly big enough a word for this basket. Did you write on each one yourself? And decorate them?" 

"Yes, Sandburg," Jim said patiently. "I know how to decorate." 

"Apparently." Blair fingered two of many cookie flowers threaded onto wooden skewers. "There are a lot of them." 

"Thirty, right?" 

"How did you know?" Blair asked. 

"I asked Simon." 

"Really? You cared enough to ask?" 

"Yes, I cared enough to ask." Jim watched intently while Blair removed one of the cookie treats from its mooring and delicately nibbled the edges. 

"Oh, man. Good flavor! I love sugar cookies." He bit into the sweet. "I'm eating 'Happy Birthday'. And after this one, I'm eating 'Hang Ten'." 

Jim laughed. "That's a surfing term." 

"I know that, silly. Do you surf?" 

"Occasionally. I like the power of the ocean. It makes me feel – good to be able to tackle a wave and actually make it to the beach in one piece." 

"Thanks. The cookie bouquet is beautiful. And delicious. And the basket is awesome. Do I get to keep it?" 

Jim laughed. "Of course. After you finish the cookies, the basket is yours. I thought it would look nice among your collection of... stuff." 

Blair laughed also. "It's beautiful. I like Native American items. Thank you. Can I make you some fresh coffee?" 

"I'd like that. Thanks." 

"So... Now that you're almost done with your duties to me, do you have something else lined up?" Blair busied himself by grinding some fresh beans, adding cold water to the carafe and plugging in the electric coffee maker. 

Jim leaned against the counter, watching Blair. It was a favorite hobby of his. Blair was compact and sturdy, full of energy and vitality. His hands moved constantly while he spoke, and his eyes were bright and happy. Jim sighed contently. 

"Jim. Earth to Jim?" 

"Sorry, Chief. I was daydreaming." Jim shifted against the edge of the counter and cleared his throat. "I have something to ask you." 

"Okay, man. Anything." Blair removed two cups from the cupboard and turned to face Jim, waiting expectantly. 

"Next week. Next Friday..." Jim paused. Blair nodded encouragingly so he finally blurted out, "Would you let me take you out to dinner for your birthday?" 

Blair smiled, his eyes dancing. "You mean you'd be willing to eat somebody else's food?" 

Jim rolled his eyes. "Yes, smart ass. I'd be willing to eat somebody else's food." 

"Then, yes. I'd love to. Thanks." Blair went to the fridge for creamer and when he returned to place it on the counter beside the coffee, he looked at Jim through his lashes. "Is it...? I mean, you and I... A date?" 

Jim slowly nodded. "If you'd like... I mean... You're a friend and friends treat each other on their birthdays. So..." 

Blair grinned. "Cool. I'd really like that. Thank you." Jim breathed a sigh of relief, making Blair laugh. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" 

Jim playfully cuffed the side of Blair's head. "Jerk." 

"Be careful," Blair said with a devilish grin. "You asked me out. Therefore, if I'm a jerk, what does that make you asking me out? A dumb ass?" 

Jim's mouth fell open and he moved closer, grabbing Blair's arm to pull him close where he swiftly locked his own arm around Blair's neck and rubbed his head with his knuckles. Blair screeched and wiggled loose, running into the living room, his face alight with mischief. He stuck his tongue out at Jim, who gave chase. They dashed around the dining table for a few rounds before Blair made the fatal mistake of trying to reach the stairs. Jim lunged and caught Blair around his waist, and they tumbled to the floor amid a good deal of laughter. Lying, breathing hard, both men grinned at each other. Jim reached out and touched Blair's cheek, smiling. Blair tried to catch his breath while he wrapped a hand around Jim's wrist. They both froze for a moment before they moved closer. Once again, Jim knew he could do it if he wanted to. Knew he could kiss Blair. But reason seemed to always interfere. He cleared his throat and whispered, "Coffee's done." 

Blair nodded. "So it is," he said huskily. 

Jim rose and held out a hand, helping Blair to his feet. "You're a good friend." 

With a smile, Blair said, "You too. Now let's have some of that coffee while it's hot and fresh." 

"Sounds good." 

\-----------------------------------------

The door to 307 opened barely a crack. "You ready, Chief?" Jim said happily. "The reserva –” 

"I can't go," Blair said testily, cutting off Jim's words. 

"What? We had this planned for a week now –” 

"I can't go!" 

"Open the door and let me in. We'll talk –” 

"No! Now get lost!" Blair firmly held onto the door, letting only part of his face show. When Jim put a hand on the door, Blair's foot kept it from opening any more than the three inches he'd allowed. "Damn it to hell! Go away, and don't come back!" 

Jim felt his heart breaking at the harsh words. What had he done? Just this morning, they'd talked on the phone about this dinner. Blair had been so excited and Jim had felt like a teenager on a first date. What could have possibly happened in the four hours since they'd spoken? "Now wait just a minute –” 

"Fuck off!" 

The door slammed and Jim was left in the hallway staring at the green paint. With his jaw clenched so hard that his teeth almost shattered, he clenched his fists and stomped over to the stairs. Not bothering to wait for the elevator, he ran down the stairs and threw open the glass door to the street. Marching over to his truck, Jim put his hand on the door handle and froze. Wait. Something wasn't right. His instincts crashed through him and his inner voice screamed. Danger! Warning! Danger! 

Jim suspiciously glanced around. No one on the street seemed to be paying any attention to him. Pedestrians walked by. Cars calmly moved up and down the street. No sirens wailed. Closing his eyes, Jim took in a shaky breath before he huffed it out. After several seconds of deep breathing, he again took stock of his surroundings, allowing his senses to heighten and to bring necessary information into his brain. He heard and dismissed many conversations. He smelled scents, but none seemed dangerous. His eyes flick back and forth, but nothing registered as grave or hazardous. 

Turning, he focused his senses entirely on the window to the third floor apartment where his hopes and dreams had been placed and now lay shattered like so much cheap glass. A voice... unknown and instantly disliked, spoke. 

"...put them on!" Jim heard small, metallic, clinking sounds. What was it? Jewelry? Chain? Wait... Handcuffs! Shit! 

Then he heard his beloved's voice, "No! I won't – Keep away from me or you'll be sorry!" The sounds of a pistol cocking. Then no voices. The only sound was two quick, small metallic snaps – the snap of the handcuffs closing – before Blair spoke again in an angry tone. "I did what you wanted." 

"That's because I'd have put a bullet in his fucking head the second he walked into the room." 

"I'll never go with you willingly. I'll never help you! You'll have to kill me here and now." 

The woman's voice again... First she laughed, cold and hard, before she said, "Fat chance. You'll do as you're told or you'll regret it. My senses are going nuts! Everything hurts! My skin itches constantly! You have to fix this or else! I have ways to – persuade." He could hear the woman's footsteps, the heels of her shoes restlessly tapping on the hardwood floor. "Besides, I know where the bastard lives. You just think about that!" The words were cold, devoid of emotion, hurtful and cruel. 

"You wouldn't! Please...." Blair pleaded. 

"No? Try me." 

Dejected, Blair said quietly in a voice full of malice, "I hate you, Alex." 

The silence that followed was deafening to Jim's sensitive ears. Oh, God. Blair was doing whatever this woman wanted to protect him! Jim's hands clenched into tight fists. He'd become so angry when he thought that Blair was abandoning their friendship without so much as a by-your-leave that he didn't think! Why hadn't he paid attention? His mind flashed back to Blair's face, pressed into the crack of the door. His eyes were wide and full of tears. His face pale and his mouth tense. Jim now realized that he had been frightened, but not for himself. For Jim! 

Who was that woman? Jim pulled his cell phone and it was answered on the second ring.

"Banks." 

"It's Ellison. Who is Alex?"

"Jim? Alex who – You don't mean Alex Barnes?" 

"Does Sandburg know this – Alex Barnes?" 

Simon's voice was full of fear when he said, "Know her? She's the bitch who killed him!" 

Jim felt his blood run cold. "Send backup to Blair's place. Now!" 

Before Simon could respond, Jim closed the phone with a loud snap and jumped into the driver's seat of his truck. He maneuvered the truck across the street and up onto the sidewalk until he was underneath the fire escape. Climbing onto the roof, he leaped up, successfully grabbing the bottom rung of the fire escape ladder and pulling himself up. Gaining a foothold, he quietly climbed the ladder and inch by inch, raised his face to look into the loft's second floor bedroom window. A quick glance showed no sign of occupants. The lights were off in the bedroom. With a small prayer of thanks, Jim used his pocketknife to open the old-fashioned window lock and, as quietly as possible, he raised the sash and slipped in. 

Listening carefully, he determined the position of the woman, who was in the bathroom with the shower running. Blair was somewhere in the living room because he could hear his incoherent muttering and the sounds of metal on metal. Lying flat on his belly, he examined everything in his line of vision while he kept track of the woman's movements. Sliding forward a few more inches, he located his friend. 

Thankful that Sandburg seemed to be okay, Jim could see that he was nevertheless restrained somewhat uncomfortably. Against the large wooden column that stood between the kitchen and the living space, Blair had been placed with his arms stretched high over his head, the chain between the cuffs was looped over a heavy nail, forcing him to his toes. He was unable to reach high enough to unhook the cuffs and he was yanking down on the chain so hard that the skin on his wrists was already bleeding, thin rivulets running down his arms. Jim knew he was trying to bend the nail downward so he could slip the chain off its mooring. He also now knew the reason that Blair's voice was incoherent. He was tightly gagged so that any cries for help were successfully muffled. 

Astonished that the woman actually had the nerve to stop during the commission of a kidnapping and take a shower, Jim swiftly got to his feet and raced down the steps. 

"Chief!" he whispered. 

Blair's eyes widened and his head swiveled. He called Jim's name against his gag and his eyes filled with relief. 

"Shhh," Jim entreated. He held Blair around the waist with one hand and raised him from the floor while he unhooked the cuffs from the nail. Blair's arms flopped down, smearing blood on Jim's face and neck as he threw them around his neck and gratefully buried his face against Jim's chest. 

"I got you." With Blair tightly clutching him, he released his hold so that he could untie the tight knot that he found on the gag behind Blair's head. Gently removing it, he tenderly put his hands on either side of Blair's face and intently examined him for injury. Angrily, he rubbed the tip of a finger against the reddened marks on either side of Blair's mouth. It took great effort to tamp down his desire to rush into the bathroom and do damage to the person responsible for Blair's pain, but nevertheless, he wrapped an arm around Blair's waist and whispered, "Let's get out –” 

The sound of a gun cocking made Jim freeze. His head jerked up and his eyes met hard blue ones. Instinctively, Jim thrust Blair behind his body, shielding him. The woman stalked over and pressed the barrel against Jim's temple. Silently, and without hesitation, she pulled the trigger. 

The gun clicked. Jim jerked, steeling himself, fully expecting the bullet to penetrate his skull, but when nothing happened, he felt a momentary stab of relief. Misfire! On his next breath, he swung into action, bringing his clenched fist up swiftly, smashing the woman's jaw. She fell into a heap. 

Stumbling away from the fallen woman, Blair practically dragged Jim toward the sofa, where they both collapsed. Jim trembled, realizing how close he'd come to losing the most important person in his life. His arms reached out and hugged Blair close. Blair pressed himself against Jim's body, seemingly trying to burrow into his skin. 

"I almost lost you!" Blair whispered hoarsely. "She actually pulled the trigger!" 

"I'm fine. It's you I was worried about. I almost lost you." Jim echoed. "Are you okay?" 

"Me? I'm not the one who had a gun pressed against his temple." 

"I'm okay." 

"You're trembling." 

Jim huffed out a shaky breath. "I was terrified for you." 

"It was you I was scared for. How did you – Oh, right. I keep forgetting." Blair held onto Jim's torso with all his might. 

"Forgetting?" Jim whispered, his lips pressing against Blair's neck. 

"About your heightened senses." 

Jim froze before moving Blair away to hold him at arm's length. "You know?" 

Blair looked mildly exasperated. "Well, duh." 

"Smart –” 

The pounding on the door followed by a shout from Simon Banks. "Police! Open up!" 

Before Jim could call out, the door flew open, splintering the frame around where the deadbolt had been fastened, with pieces of wood flying through the air. 

"Freeze!" Simon shouted, holding his gun out before he saw Jim and Blair, who had risen to their feet. "You two okay?" 

"Yes, sir, We're fine," Blair answered. He nodded toward Barnes. "Find the keys to the handcuffs, then get her out of here, please" he said between clenched teeth. "Check the bag on the floor. It's hers," he added, nodding toward the black backpack on the floor next to the front door. 

With a nod, Simon rummaged through the backpack until he found the silver keys. He tossed them to Jim, who caught them with one hand and unlocked the cuffs. Simon called out into the hallway at the uniformed officer who had accompanied his captain, "Officer Jenkins? Take her down to headquarters and book her for attempted kidnapping for starters. I'll let you know what other charges to add after I've taken statements." 

"Yes, sir," said the responding officer. Standing over Barnes, who had started to regain consciousness and moan softly, he asked, "Should I call the paramedics?" 

Simon rolled his eyes in disgust. "Yes, I suppose. I'll do it. You cuff her." 

"Yes, sir." 

When the officer reached down to place the cuffs on Barnes' wrists, she ferociously kicked out, knocking the man from his feet. She tried to rise, but Jim moved quickly. He grabbed her around the waist and hauled her to her feet when she tried to roll away. She kicked at Jim's shins and smashed her head back, catching his chin. With a grunt of pain, he wrapped his arms around her waist and with his chest to her back, he pinned her hands against her chest with a vice-like grip and pressed his chin into her neck so she couldn't use her head as a weapon, effectively holding her immobile. 

With deadly menace, he said for her ears only, "He is claimed. Find another – if you can, but know this. He is mine." He gripped her wrist with a hand of steel and yanked her around. He looked into her eyes and saw the fear residing there. But he also saw the hint of madness. This woman was dangerous and deadly, but she understood enough to know that if she threatened Blair again, her life was forfeit. "Do you understand?" He squeezed enough to punctuate his words with menace. "Do you?" he growled, his eyes flaring glacially. 

She nodded, her own eyes wide and frightened. 

"Sorry, sir," the officer said contritely when he rose and hobbled over, clamping the cuffs on her wrists behind her back. 

"Get her out of here," Jim said roughly, not bothering to look at Barnes again. 

"What the hell was that?" Simon demanded. 

"Nothing, Simon. Just some – friendly advice," Jim said with a shrug. 

"Friendly? Why do I doubt that?" Simon answered with a deep chuckle. 

Jim shrugged again and his gaze found Blair's. "Sandburg?" he said softly. 

Blair stood hesitantly for a moment before his eyes met Jim's. He tentatively smiled and responded to Jim's silent invitation. In seconds, he was in Jim's arms. 

"I'll need statements!" Simon bellowed. 

"Yes, sir," Blair said from the protective embrace of his soon-to-be lover. "Tomorrow?" 

Simon's eyes narrowed before he shook his head. "Tomorrow. By noon!" 

"Will do, Captain," Blair promised. "We'll be in by noon." 

"Good work, men. Ah, carry on." Simon waved a cigar-filled hand at the embracing men before he turned and, with another chuckle, left. 

Jim and Blair stood for a long moment holding each other before Blair finally pulled back and looked into Jim's eyes. 

"Claimed?" he asked. 

"You heard that?" Jim said, blushing. 

"Yes. What's that supposed to mean, exactly?" Blair asked, intently studying Jim's face. 

Jim felt himself tighten up inside. His desires warred with his need to protect himself from hurt. He clenched his jaw and moved away from Blair. "It doesn't mean anything,. It was just – something I said. I don't know why. Let's get those wrists bandaged." 

Blair followed Jim as he retreated to the bathroom. "You don't know why," he stated. "What exactly does that mean, Jim? You said it. It must mean something!" 

"Now don't go getting all pissed off!" Jim found antiseptic, gauze and medical tape. He ran cool water on a rag and carefully wiped the blood from Blair's wrists. 

"I'm not pissed off. I'm – disappointed! You said something and I want to know why!" Blair demanded, moving closer into Jim's space, his gaze locked intently on Jim's face. 

Jim was silent while he dried the small abrasions, coated them with the first aid cream and wrapped them with gauze. He clenched his jaw while he worked. 

"Talk to me. Now," Blair demanded. "I want to know what it meant. I need to know!" Hepushed his fingers into Jim's shoulder. 

Jim shrugged off the touch. "Back off, General. It wasn't anything. And it didn't mean a thing. You're reading too much into it – whatever it is." He turned his face away, his heart screaming in protest. What was he doing? He couldn't – expose himself. He couldn't. The fear of rejection overrode his need for this man. His desires. His love. He panicked. "Why can't you just leave it alone! We had a good thing going! Didn't we? We got along. We're friends! Why do you have to push?" Jim shouted. 

Blair crossed his arms and said firmly, "Make a decision. Now." 

"What?" Jim said, irritated. "You're telling me to make a decision? Where do you get off telling me what to do?"

Moving even closer, Blair said adamantly, "Because you belong to me." 

Jim's face grew cold. Without speaking, he turned and crossed through the kitchen to yank open the front door. The broken frame cracked even more when he pulled, and the door opened with a screech. 

"Ellison!" 

Jim stopped. 

"You have two choices. You leave, and don't bother coming back. Or you turn around and claim what is yours by birthright. I know about your senses, you asshole. And I know I'm – yours. We belong together. You're the watchman and I'm your partner. Make a decision, Jim. I can't wait any longer." 

Jim's eyes narrowed and he angrily closed the door. Turning, his gaze met Blair's and his eyes widened when he saw the blue/grey eyes flare momentarily before morphing back into his ocean blue coloring. His own responded, briefly gleaming yellow, then ice blue. Stalking over to Blair, he didn't say anything but reached out and grabbed handfuls of long, curly hair. He crushed their lips together in a bruising kiss, forcing the full lips open with his tongue to totally explore the wet, hot depths. Their kisses were deep and hot and wet. Blair's keening whimpers made Jim respond immediately; he became hard so quickly it almost took his breath away. He abruptly released Blair, who stumbled back and almost fell. 

Moving quickly, Jim grabbed Blair around the waist and clamped his free hand under his arm. He led the trembling man up the stairs and over to the large bed. He yanked the bedspread away and undressed Blair before he had a chance to speak, throwing the clothes every which way. Pushing his lover back against the mattress, Jim yanked Blair to the edge of the bed and with Blair legs hanging over, he sucked Blair's rapidly hardening penis into his throat. When Blair yelled and thrust up, Jim's hands slipped under his buttocks. Using his large hands, he held onto the ass cheeks while he worked the throbbing erection, using teeth, tongue and lips. 

Blair cried out when teeth lightly scraped across the sensitive head before sucking hard. Wordlessly, he thrust madly. Jim kept up his work until he felt Blair's body skirting the edge of orgasm. He felt the organ in his mouth swell and he sensed his lover's body gather for its release. He smelled the arousal, strong and musky. Suddenly, Jim moved away, leaving Blair panting and humping the air, mindlessly searching for what his body demanded, but finding only empty space. At the small whimpering noises that Blair was making, Jim gave a feral grin. He turned and grabbed the first thing he could find for lubricant – a bottle of hand lotion from the nightstand. While he slathered his hand, he looked down at his lover. 

Blair's eyes were half-closed, his teeth clamped onto his lower lip, his face covered with sweat. His nipples, as yet untouched, were peaked, aching to be sucked, and his erection, red and slick, looked full and ready to burst to Jim's knowing eyes. Blair moaned deeply, tossing his head, reaching for his own erection, but before he had a chance to speak, to touch himself, Jim fell to his knees yet again and returned to his task. He engulfed the hard member in one swallow. Blair howled, his back arching up from the bed. Jim used his elbows to spread Blair's legs while he sucked harder and when Blair thrust upward, Jim slipped his slick hands under Blair's buttocks, spread his cheeks and slipped both thumbs into the tight pucker, burying them while and rubbing the muscle with his index fingers. 

Finding his voice, Blair screamed, "Jjjjjiiimmm!" His body spasmed, shooting spurt after spurt of thick come into Jim's mouth while he shook from head to toe. Jim deftly moved his hands. One index finger rubbed Blair's perineum while two fingers slipped into Blair's body and nudged his prostate while he came, making him once again lose all power of speech and howl loudly. 

When Blair's body was finally spent of all it had to give, Jim released the glistening organ with a wet, nasty slurp. He stood and unzipped his pants, drawing out his own heavy erection. Slathering his erection thickly with the lotion, he flipped his nearly incoherent partner to his stomach and spread his legs wide. With Blair still hanging over the bed and keening constantly, Jim guided his slick organ against his lover's body and pressed into the hot depths. He didn't stop until his pubic hair brushed against the hot skin of his lover's ass. 

With a hand on either side of Blair's head, Jim's mouth and teeth found the back of his neck. He bit along the bone before tasting the sweet curve of the sweaty neck. Blair's hands scrabbled against the sheets, grabbing handfuls in clenched fists. Jim experimentally pushed against Blair's backside, making him grunt. Pulling out slowly, Jim thrust in again. 

Blair turned his face to the side and looked over his shoulder. His face was sweaty and tear-streaked. His lips were full and swollen. He looked debauched and wanton, spread under Jim, ass up, waiting to be taken. "Fuck me," he ordered simply. "Now." His ass cheek muscles clenched around Jim and he lifted his hips minutely. 

Jim responded with another thrust, then another until he fell into a steady rhythm. Mouth hanging open, he silently claimed what was his. Holding off as long as possible, he pumped into Blair's body steadily, not even realizing that tears were streaking his own face. When he felt himself tumble, he thrust roughly twice before he froze and coated his lover's passage with his seed. 

"Mine," he growled. "Say it!"

"Yours, damn it!" Blair cried. "Oh God!" 

Finally spent, Jim collapsed on top of his lover, panting harshly. Still clothed, he rolled to the side and slid to his knees. Leaning against the side of the bed, he stayed on the floor until he felt Blair tug on his arm. Bleary-eyed, he crawled up onto the bed and collapsed into a heap next to his lover. Both men fell asleep instantly. 

\----------------------------------------------

Jim woke slowly. He was surprised when he looked around and saw Blair sleeping deeply next to him on top of the blankets, stark naked, while he slept fully clothed with only his dick hanging out of his pants, limp and crusted with come and something else slick and messy. 

With a groan, Jim suddenly remembered. He clamped his hands over his face and rubbed it, moaning into his hands. "What have I done?" 

"You've taken what is yours." 

Jim's hands fell away and his head turned. Two intensely blue eyes bore into his. "Have I? Are you?" 

"Yes," Blair said adamantly, his hand finding and holding Jim's organ. "I am yours." 

"It sounds so...." 

"Primitive?" Blair offered. 

"Yes." 

"It is." 

Jim looked a bit shocked. "And you want this?" 

"Do you?" 

"I – Yes." 

Blair smiled. "Me, too." His fingers played along the flaccid flesh until Jim felt a stirring in his groin. Blair's grin widened and his hand moved faster. "Now make love to me." 

"But we just did that!" 

"No, you took what was yours. There's a difference." 

Jim considered for a moment before he gave Blair a tentative smile. "You want me to...?"

"Yes?" Blair encouraged. 

"Make love to you." 

"You do know how to make love," Blair said smartly. 

Looking into Blair's face, so eager and expectant, Jim felt his heart swell. "I know how to make love." With that, Jim rolled to his side and slipped an arm around Blair's waist, pulling him close. Leaning down, he lightly pressed their lips together before pulling away to gently lick the skin with his tongue. 

"Oh, yeah," Blair said softly. 

Encouraged, Jim started kissing Blair's face, placing light kisses over his eyes, nose and cheeks. He licked his ears and nibbled his lobes. 

"Like this?" 

"Yes. God. Yes." 

Jim chuckled, seeing Blair's body already responding, eager and hardening quickly. Seeing the two brown nipples and remembering his thoughts about them earlier, he leaned down and licked. When Blair hissed with pleasure, Jim grinned and licked again. Before long, he was happily sucking and nibbling the taut nubs, making Blair alternately giggle helplessly and pant his encouragement. 

"Clothes," Blair ordered. 

"What?" Jim said in a haze. 

"Off." 

"Oh." With fumbling fingers, Jim shed his clothes with Blair's help until he was naked and hard, nestled between Blair's legs with his nose buried in the musky fur. 

"Make love to me." Blair looked into Jim's eyes with such love, that Jim felt himself tear up for a moment. 

Swallowing hard, Jim nodded. With a kiss to each nipple, and one to the head of Blair's erection, Jim found the lotion again. He stared at the bottle before he tossed it aside and froze. "I forgot the first time. I didn't use protection. I'm sorry..." 

"Hey, I have news for you, man. Not to worry. I'm not – experienced with men, Jim. It was all new to me so... If you're clean, I'm good without condoms." 

Jim slowly nodded. "I'm clean. Always. I'd never hurt you. You know that, don't you?" 

"Yeah, I kind of got that a while ago." 

The tone made Jim's heart stop. It was full of love and trust. Just two little words and he felt those tears slip down his cheek. "Just you and me? Okay?" he whispered, hesitantly, expectantly. 

"Oh, yeah. You and me. Always." Blair gave Jim a blindingly bright smile. "And so...?" 

Wiping the moisture away, Jim smiled. "I have something better to use." He slipped from the bed and after a quick rummage in a drawer, found proper lubricant. 

"Let me." Blair held out his hand. 

Jim almost broke a toe climbing back on the bed in his eagerness to have Blair touch him. He thrust the bottle at Blair, who laughed. 

"I'm not going anywhere." 

Jim blushed. "Sorry... I was..." 

"Excited? Eager?" 

Nodding, Jim smiled. The smile quickly changed to a look of surprise when a hot hand covered in slick lube wrapped around his erection and stroked. 

"Shit!" Jim cried, thrusting into the tunnel of Blair's hands. Hips moving, he fucked the grip for a moment longer before the hands moved away. "Chief?" 

"In me, please, Jim." 

"Turn over." 

"No, this way." Blair put a hand behind each knee and lifted up, spreading his legs and opening his body for his lover's eyes. "Looking at each other. Watching each other. Want to watch you make love with me." 

Jim sucked in a breath and nodded stupidly. His mouth open, he moved closer and was almost dazed at the body spread out before him. A loving gesture, meant for him, and only him. A hand on his dick, tugging gently, made him move his pelvis closer. He felt the head of his penis touch Blair, then Blair's legs wrapped around his waist. When his heels dug in and he pulled, Jim moved forward from the pressure and joined with his mate. 

"Blair!" Jim whispered, slipping into the furnace of Blair's body. 

"Jim! Oh, man. Jim!" 

"Blair...." 

"Move it. Do it, please," Blair pleaded, lifting his hips even higher. 

"Ahhh!" Jim cried, pushing forward before pulling back. With Blair directing his legs, Jim made love to Blair, deeply and fully. He rolled his hips and pulled out only to push in part way, making Blair cry out. "Like that?" Jim did it again, massaging Blair's prostrate until he was thrashing his head and crying out on each thrust. 

"Jimjimjimjimjim," Blair cried in rhythm to Jim's hips and Jim's hand working his erection. 

"God, Chief. You're so beautiful." Fisting the hard penis, Jim watched Blair's face intently. He loved the look of his lover in pleasure. His eyes were closed, his mouth open. His face sweat-slicked and his hair wild. "Look at me," he ordered softly. 

When Blair's heavy eyes finally opened, Jim smiled, and thrust against Blair's prostate while stroking his erection. He loved that face – half-closed eyes pleading for more, sweaty face plastered with a dazed look. Blair cried out Jim's name when he came in milky spurts on Jim's hand and his own belly. Jim grinned widely, once again coming deep in Blair's body. This time, it was gentle and warm, and made him feel whole and loved. 

"Oh, man. Oh, man," Blair said, trembling. 

"I – I love you." 

Blair's eyes flew open. "Jim?" 

Jim carefully lowered his body down to cover Blair's. Chest to chest, Blair's body still holding him inside, he kissed the already kiss-swollen lips and repeated, "I love you." 

Blair blinked quickly. Jim could see him fight the tears of happiness when he responded, "I love you too. Always." 

Jim smiled and rolled to his side, pulling his lover close. He wound his fingers into Blair's curls and pressed their lips together for a long, slow, loving kiss. Finally parting, Blair smiled and snuggled against Jim's chest, tucking his head under his strong chin and wrapping an arm around his waist. 

"Mine," Blair whispered. 

"Yours," Jim answered. 

Contented, they slept. 

\------------------------------------------

"I'm starving!" Blair whined immediately upon waking. 

Jim blinked sleepily, looking at the wide-awake man peering down at him. "Huh?" 

Blair laughed. "Good response. Man, get up! I'm hungry! You need to cook!" 

"Cook?" Jim echoed, looking confused. 

Blair made eating hand motions. "You, cook. Me, eat." 

Jim groaned. "Tarzan, it's 3 am!" 

"I know that, Cheetah, or is that Jane?" Blair said, giving Jim a look that clearly expressed his exasperation at Jim's apparent statement of a fact that he already knew. 

Jim thought he looked adorable, disheveled, naked and quite – happy. Giving Blair a crooked smile, he sighed. "You'll have to settle for scrambled eggs and bagels." 

"Cool! Coffee, too, please. Fresh ground." 

"I've created a monster," Jim moaned softly. "Okay, okay. Fresh ground." 

"Costa Rican grown?" 

Jim pointed a finger. "Don't push it, mister!" Rising while Blair tugged on his hand, Jim smiled fondly. "I'm coming!" He looked for and found the boxers he had tossed aside earlier in the evening. Or was that yesterday? Grinning with the memories, Jim pulled up the shorts. 

"Not just yet," Blair muttered, making Jim raise an eyebrow. Shrugging good-naturedly, Blair grinned. "What?" 

"Don't give me that innocent look. And Chief?" Jim said, stopping at the top of the stairs to look at his lover, who was bending over and searching through a drawer for – something. Jim's throat tightened at the sight before him. Blair's ass in full view, his genitals exposed for Jim's perusal. And the look that Blair gave him from his position told Jim that Blair knew exactly the effect he had on Jim's libido. 

Glancing at Jim from under his arm, he smiled innocently. "Yes, Jim?" 

Shaking his head, Jim rolled his eyes and licked his lips. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Eggs in ten minutes." 

"Cool. I'll find some clean boxers and be right down. I want to take a shower after I eat. For some reason, I'm all – messy." 

"Imagine that," Jim murmured as he trotted down the stairs with a big smile on his face. 

\----------------------------------------------

Food eaten and showers taken, the lovers changed the messy sheets together before sinking into the cool cotton. Almost immediately they fell asleep, wrapped up together, legs entangled, arms holding. It wasn't until sun shone down through the skylight that they woke and grinned into each other's faces. 

Slow, lazy kisses were exchanged. Bodies responded. Laughter ensued, along with tickling and caressing. When Jim straddled Blair, sitting on his thighs with his legs tucked under, knees touching Blair's hips, Blair's hands mapped the strong, smooth chest. 

Jim shuddered. "Nice," he whispered, arching into the strong fingers that tweaked both nipples at the same time. Droplets from the head of his erection splattered onto Blair's skin. Blair reached down and ran a finger through the fluid before sucking the digit into his mouth. 

"Good," he said softly. "Very good." With a smile, he dipped a finger against the small slit and again tasted. "You taste sweet." 

"Blair... My God. Nobody's every done that before... Nobody. It's such a turn-on." 

Jim passively allowed Blair's hands to explore. He closed his eyes and reveled in the touch. 

"We need to talk about your senses." 

"Now?" 

"This is a good time. With your eyes closed, tell me what you feel." 

Jim sucked in a breath before he huffed it out. "Your fingers! Squeezing my nipple!" 

"What else? Look – deeper." 

Jim's brow furrowed. "I can feel the whorls on your fingertip! Wow!" 

"Now open your mouth and taste." 

Jim's mouth immediately opened and he shivered, then the finger entered. Sucking on the digit, the flavor exploded on his tongue. He rubbed his tongue on the underside like he'd done to Blair's erection last night – or what it this morning? No matter, he savored the taste. 

"What?" Blair asked. 

"You," Jim said. "It tasted like you." Jim's eyes flew open and met Blair's. 

Blair nodded and touched himself, gathering more pre-cum on his finger and offering it to Jim. Jim immediately sucked in the finger and again trembled. Murmuring his approval, he started to reach out for Blair's erection. 

"Not yet." 

With a nod, Jim's hand fell to the side. "Blair..." 

"What do you want?" 

"Need to – feel you. In me." 

"Honest? I didn't think...." 

"What? That I'd only – take? That you'd never make love to me?" At Blair's nod, Jim smiled. "Not going to happen." 

Blair's eyes met Jim's and they shone with love. "Okay. So...." 

"This way? Is that all right?" Jim asked. 

"Oh, yeah!" Blair reached over and snagged the bottle of lube. With their eyes locked, Blair managed to squirt a goodly amount of lube into his hand and messily coated his own erection. 

Jim leaned forward and their lips met. Kissing deeply, Blair reached between Jim's legs and with slick fingers, teased Jim's body until he was shaking. 

"Scoot up a bit," Blair murmured. When Jim did so, he again returned to his explorations, sliding a slick finger into Jim and carefully coating his passage. Removing his finger, he returned it with more lube before he finally was satisfied. Wiping his fingers on the sheet, he cupped Jim's balls. "God, I love touching you!" 

"Blair, please!" 

"Go for it. I'm ready." 

Jim nodded and wiggled down, rising to place his body against the head of Blair's penis. Chewing on his lower lip and with Blair helping, Jim pressed down slowly until the head slipped in. With his mouth open and the sweat dripping down his face, he lowered himself until he had fully engulfed Blair. 

"Chief!" 

"Jim! God, Jim! It's so – tight! Oh, man. Oh, man." 

When Blair lifted his hips minutely, Jim cried out, "Blair!!" 

"Did I hurt you?" 

"No... Give me a minute...." 

"You've done this before, haven't you?" 

Silently, Jim shook his head. "Not – this. Only you, lover. Only you." 

Blair's hands cupped the sides of Jim's face. "Jim, man. Thank you. Now move! You're killing me here." Reaching out, Blair started to stroke Jim's penis with one hand and gently rolled his balls in the other. "Do you like this?" 

Nodding wordlessly, Jim raised himself with his strong thighs along Blair's length before slowly sinking back down. While Blair's hand worked his erection, Jim worked his ass, riding Blair slowly, then faster. As Blair moved faster, so did Jim until he was fucking himself and wailing softly while Blair bit his lower lip and caressed Jim's hardened length. 

"Come on me," Blair ordered. 

Jim shuddered at the words. "Blair!" he cried, pushing down and holding his breath while he came on Blair's chest, coating the furry skin with thick semen.

"Jim!" Blair cried, rubbing the semen through his chest hair and thrusting upward as much as he was able, orgasm ripped from his body by Jim's clenching muscles. "Damn! God, Jim!" 

Blair started laughing, and Jim soon joined him. They chuckled together while Jim flopped onto the bed beside his lover. Fingers laced together, lying side by side, they giggled like two kids. 

"I'm such a mess!" Blair said, chortling with glee. 

"I am too, but I love it." Jim rolled to his side and grinned into Blair's smiling face. Leaning down, he placed a light kiss on his lover's cheek. "You are wonderful." 

"Ah, geez," Blair said, smiling shyly, "thanks. You too." 

Jim grinned and lay back down, kissing Blair's fingers. "Let's never leave this bed." 

Blair laughed. "Deal. I'll call Simon and tell him." 

Jim rolled his eyes, running a finger down Blair's nose and tweaking the end. "Smart ass. We have..." Jim turned his head and peered at the alarm clock, "two hours. And I'm hungry!" 

"Me, too," Blair said seriously, licking his lips and letting Jim know that he was hungry for something other than food. 

"Enough! I'm an old guy! Give me a break here." Jim groaned theatrically. 

"Now who's the smart ass," Blair said teasingly, lightly smacking Jim's arm. "Let's get ready first, then we'll have a nice, leisurely breakfast." 

Jim nodded, his face becoming serious. "I love you, Professor." 

Blair smiled. "Me, too. Love you, Jim." 

\---------------------------------

Breakfast was prepared together. An Italian frittata, Jim's homemade whole-wheat biscuits, and freshly ground coffee. Sitting at the table, food was eaten while talk was rather silly and often funny. When the table was cleared and fresh cups of coffee were poured, Blair put a hand on Jim's arm and said, "Can we talk?" 

With a nod, Jim followed Blair to the sofa and they sat. Blair turned and sat cross-legged while Jim stretched out, lounging against the sofa cushions. 

"What's up?" Jim asked, sipping the flavorful brew. 

"Just how heightened are your senses?" 

Jim took another sip before he spoke. "It depends. With a bit of concentration, I can hear quite a distance. Sight is pretty good, and if I really focus, I can – sort out and smell individual fragrances." Another sip, then Jim added, "Touch is extra sensitive if I don't pay attention, and taste...? Jim grinned. "You taste damned good." 

Blair smiled. "Listen. I want to do some research, but...." Blair's face paled, making Jim move closer. 

"What? You can tell me. You know that." Jim gave Blair an encouraging smile. 

"It was my fault." 

"What was your fault? You don't mean when that woman killed you do you? You can't honestly believe it was your fault!"

Blair shrugged, but Jim could tell from the look on his face that is exactly what he believed. "Jim, man. Think about it. I tried to help her. I did help her to some degree. Her senses were wacko when she first found me. By the time she was – finished with me, she had better control, and that was my doing!" He crossed his arms and turned his face away. 

Jim moved closer and said very quietly, "Tell me why it's your fault. What else you could have done to have avoided what she did to you. Explain it to me so I can understand." 

"Because I should have seen it." Blair said fiercely. "I worked for the damned police department and I didn't even know who she was. She was a criminal and I didn't even realize it. I wasn't doing my job!" Blair hugged himself tightly and hung his head. "I let my emotions blind me to the truth!" he added sadly. 

"Blair, look at me." Jim patiently waited until Blair raised his face. The troubled blue eyes made Jim's heart break. "You thought she was special, didn't you?" At Blair's small nod, he continued, "And in a way, she was. She has hyperactive senses, just like me. Are you telling me that a person with five heightened senses is – rare?" 

"Pretty rare. You're only the second person I've known with them. But Jim? Why me? What brought her to me and then you? It's too much to believe it was accidental. There has to be a reason." 

"Maybe it's because it's you who are special." 

"What?" 

"You're special. I can feel it here," Jim said, placing his hand over his heart. "I think she felt it too, but she was – I don't know. Something was wrong with her. Is wrong with her. It's not you." 

Blair chewed on his lip before he said, "Maybe – she lost her way, Jim. Maybe that's why. You're a good person, inside. So your senses are used for good. She was a bad person inside. But I can't help but think if I could have done something else. Something to help her." 

Jim moved closer and pulled Blair into his lap. "You're a good person. You wanted to help. You can't change the evil in others, and she used you. She hurt you, and now.... I'll protect you, if you'll have me." 

Blair raised his eyes to met Jim's. "Nothing would make me happier." 

"Good. That's settled. Now about supper...." 

Laughing, Blair shook his head. "Do you always think about food?" 

Jim put a finger along side of his cheek. "Hmmmm. Let me think.... No. I sometimes think about something else now." 

Laughing, the men rose and found shoes and jackets. Blair grabbed his cell phone and wallet with his Cascade police ID. 

"Simon is going to raise the roof. We're going to be late." Blair checked his watch and shook his head. "He'll kill me." 

Jim leaned down and kissed Blair's lips. "Just stay behind me, Sandburg. I'll protect you." 

"I think you have that wrong, Ellison," Blair growled good-naturedly. "I'm the one with the authority here. You stay behind me!" Giving Jim a playful push, Blair exited the loft first with Jim following behind. 

"Nice ass," Jim quipped. 

"On second thought...." Blair spun on his heels and danced around Jim until he was behind him. "Now I'm the one with the good view." Jim wiggled his hips, making Blair laugh. Jim punched the elevator button and waited with his arms crossed while Blair made lewd comments about his lover's butt. When the elevator doors opened, Jim entered, reached out and yanked Blair into his arms. As the doors slipped shut, he kissed Blair soundly. 

\-------------------------------------------

Simon poured three cups of coffee and passed one to each of his companions. 

"Thanks, Captain," Blair said, sipping the black brew. 

"I'm glad you're okay, Sandburg. We need you around here," Simon said. 

"I've missed everybody." Blair smiled and set the cup on the edge of Simon's desk. "My doctor says I'm cleared for work, starting Monday." 

Simon nodded, pulling a cigar and clipping the end. "Good. We have a multiple murder case that's growing cold. I need you to take it on." 

"Will do, sir." 

"That week was worth it, wasn't it?" 

"Captain?" Blair raised an eyebrow. "What week?" 

"The week that the guys paid for with the master chef," Simon said, nodding toward Jim. "He was worth it, wasn't he?" 

Blair scowled at Jim before he asked Simon, "A week? You guys paid for a week?" 

"Didn't I just say that?" Simon groused. "Why?" 

Blair shook his head. "No reason," he answered, casting Jim a look that clearly said, _I'll take care of you later._

Jim gave Blair a wide grin and a shrug of his shoulders. 

Simon leaned back in his chair and eyed Jim closely. "So, what about you, Ellison?" 

"Me, sir?" Jim said, turning his attention back to the captain. "I'm just.... What?" he asked, seeing Simon's raised eyebrow. 

"You and my consultant seem awfully – close. Something I should know?" Simon asked. 

"No, sir," Jim answered, shifting in his seat. 

Simon chuckled. "It's okay, Jim. Blair isn't a police officer and he's not violating departmental regulations about spouses being partners." 

"Spouses?" Jim looked puzzled. 

"Yes,, spouses. Maybe you prefer the term, domestic partners? But I was referring to you and Blair as work partners." 

"What? Partners?" Jim still looked confused. 

Simon sat up and grinned. "Yes, partners. So I have the new budget right here." He held up a sheet of paper. "I have enough to add another crime scene consultant to my budget. I need somebody with experience, say, ex-military. Maybe a short stint with the police department.... Maybe it didn't work out for – various reasons. But maybe it would work out now. What do you say?" 

Blair looked surprised for a moment before he glanced at Jim and a wide grin crossed his face. "Jim?" 

Jim looked into Blair's eyes and after a few seconds of surprise, he smiled. Turning to Simon, he said, "I think I'd like that, sir. I have the experience. Seems I was in the military with a certain police captain. I could ask him for a reference." 

"Do you think he'd give you a good recommendation?" Simon said seriously. 

"I could ask him," Jim said with a smile. "He's a pretty upstanding kind of guy even if he is a pain in the backside at times." 

"Hey!" Simon laughed. "Consider it done. Fill out these forms and get them back ASAP." He tossed a manila envelope over to Jim. "Then make sure Vera clears your drug test. Now get out of here and let me work." 

Jim rose. "Thank you, Simon. I'll do a good job for you." He reached out his hand. 

Simon clamped his hand onto Jim's and shook. "I know you will. And you owe me a dinner." 

Jim nodded and echoed, "Consider it done." 

Simon glared. "Out!" He pointed at the door. 

Blair grinned. "See you Monday, Captain." 

"Yeah, yeah," Simon muttered, eyes already poring over a file on his desk, but his deep chuckle followed the two partners out the door. 

\---------------------------------------

In the elevator, Blair kept tossing Jim sidelong glances, looking concerned. Jim finally rolled his eyes and asked, "What? Do I have something hanging from my nose?" 

Blair smiled fondly. "No. It's just... Is this what you want?" 

"What? Working for the PD? Working with you?" At Blair's nod, Jim smiled. Moving closer, he snaked an arm across Blair's shoulders. "I like the idea. I think I can do it, and I like helping people." 

"It's the guardian in you, the Sentinel part." 

"Sentinel?" Jim asked, curious over the new word. 

"Yeah. That's what you are, a Sentinel. A watchman. A guardian who protects his tribe." 

"Tribe?" 

"In primitive terms, your family is your tribe. Of course, it can extend to your neighborhood and even your village or town. Sentinels guard and protect." 

"Really? Sentinel, huh? What about you?" 

Blair shrugged. "I'm your partner." 

Jim smiled. "That you are, Chief. What about – Barnes?"

"What? Why didn't she feel the need to protect?" At Jim's nod, Blair sighed. "I don't know. I think maybe she was just a freak of nature. It would explain her behavior since the senses are a naturally occurring phenomenon. Maybe Sentinels are just like everybody else. Some are good, some are – not." 

Jim chuckled. "Yeah, that explains it, all right, Professor." 

The elevator opened and they walked through the lobby and out the front door toward Jim's truck. 

"So why did you lie?" 

"Lie?" Jim asked innocently. 

"When you tell somebody something that isn't the truth, that's called lying." 

"About...?"

Blair gave Jim an exasperated look. "One week. If Simon paid for one week, why did you tell me it was a month?" When Jim remained silent, he stopped. "Jim?" he whispered. 

Jim shrugged. "Because... Because the moment I met you, I knew that I wanted you." 

"Oh. Honest?" Wide blue eyes watched Jim intently. 

"Yes. The first moment." 

"Cool. So... you'll still cook for me?" Blair asked teasingly. 

Jim smiled. "Of course. You just try and stop me." 

"Tonight?" 

Jim laughed. "Are you hungry?" 

"I could eat." 

"You're job is to do the dishes." 

"We're buying a dishwasher tomorrow," Blair complained. "My hands are turning into prunes." 

Ruffling his lover's hair, Jim chuckled. "You haven't had my liver and onions yet. I could fix it for you." 

"It's a deal," Blair said, grinning. "And later on, we'll try some esophagus." 

Jim laughed aloud, pulling Blair close. "And after that, we'll try something else?" 

"Hmmmm. Something else?" Blair asked, grinning. "I'm down with that. I like everything you cook up," he said quietly. "Anything and everything." 

Jim grinned in return. "Let's experiment." 

"Let's go home." 

"Home. Now that sounds great," Jim said. "You. Me. Sex... and good food." 

Blair slipped an arm around Jim's waist. "Food. It's good for the body and the soul." 

Jim nodded. "Food for the soul. Good name, Chief. Do you think I can use it for my cookbook?" 

"You writing a cookbook?" 

"Been thinking about it." 

Blair smiled brightly. "It's a great title. Food for the Soul. I like it. And I like you, too." 

"You're food for my soul, Chief." Blair's eyes lit up, making Jim's heart swell with love. 

"Me, too, Jim. You feed my body, and my soul, and my heart." 

"Ahhh, that's nice. Mushy, but nice." Jim gave Blair a smart-assed grin. 

"How about this? Take me home and fuck me senseless." Blair gave Jim a lecherous grin. 

Jim roared with laughter. "Not mushy, but still nice!" 

Laughing together, the lovers went home – to cook, and then to really let things heat up. 

\-------------------------------


End file.
